RAIN
by JennaKobis
Summary: I am a simple girl. I don't care about dresses or delicacies. I hate the guards and the cruelties they encourage. Then I met Connor. He saved my life and so I have devoted myself to the Assassins and all they stand for. My parents are strongly opposed to it, but they'd never cared about me. Until now. My name is Clara, and this is my story. ConnorxOC Timeline slightly AU *SPOILERS*
1. Chapter 1

**Hello readers! This is the first chapter of my AC3 Fanfiction, Rain. I would really appreciate reviews, and please point out any mistakes or typos you see! I do not own AC3 or Connor, but I own my own character who you will read about soon enough!**

**Enjoy!**

CHAPTER 1

Connor rode his horse through the snow. She was strong, and Connor knew she could make it to Boston before daybreak. The wind was strong, and very cold. Connor rode it out; he was used to this weather, as was his horse. She was a hardy girl. Her grey coat blended in well with the snow.

They rode down into a valley, making their way carefully across a frozen stream. The forest was asleep, attempting to wait out the snow. Birds no longer called in the morning and hungry wolves roamed the ground, starving and desperate.

Then a gunshot broke the silence.

Connor whipped his head around to the source of the noise.

"Yah!" Exclaimed Connor, nudging her hind with his heels, racing towards the sound of the gunshot. When he was nearly at the source of the noise, Connor dismounted his horse and from there climbed up into the trees, making his way to the sound. He soon came across a Mohawk encampment. The gunshot had come from one of the Natives on the outside of the camp, and next to him was the dead carcass of a wolf.

He was just about to turn around, for he didn't want to intrude on another tribe's business, when he heard a woman scream. He looked down and saw a woman being escorted into a tent on the outside of the camp. He could see she was not a Mohawk, but a settler. This often happened; with his people stealing women from caravans or other transports and keeping them as wives. Of course, the settlers also did this, but instead of wives they took women as slaves.

The girl was wearing a dark blue long skirt, which was patchy and worn. On her chest she wore nothing but a thin, light blue blouse. She looked terrified.

She was shoved inside the tent, while the Mohawks stood guard across the entrance flap. Connor leaped down lightly from his tree, onto the snow. It was not as soft as some people told it to be, but Connor rolled to break his fall. He snuck around to the tent the girl was held in, around the back and pulling open the flap.

The girl spun around, her black hair flying through the air. She stared at him before walking towards him, her face petrified.

"Please... don't hurt me." She begged with an English accent. It was not posh, like so many people Connor had met, but had a sort of pleasant casual air to it.

Connor walked towards the girl, whispering into her ear.

"I promise I won't. Follow me." He had a Native American accent, and his voice was deep. He was wearing a white uniform with a hood that covered half his face. He had black hair reached down to just above his shoulders, and half was tied back. He had a plait going down one side of his head. Normally the woman would consider this a feminine look, but on this strange man it looked masculine.

The girl obviously didn't want to follow Connor, but she didn't have much choice.

Connor opened the flap for her and she walked out into the cold. He picked her up, because he knew how settler women didn't like to get dirty or wet. The girl passively accepted the gesture, and they reached Connor's horse. Connor placed her on the saddle, then jumped on himself. He wrapped an arm around her waist to keep her from falling off, and they galloped off into the woods.

They rode through the forest for hours until they reached a barn that Connor occasionally used, which he knew was part of a small farm. It was rarely used. He knew the forest like the back of his hand, and he knew they could stay there for the night before continuing on to Boston. Connor would drop the woman off there and then continue on his way.

As they reached the barn, Connor jumped off his horse and lead her inside. He picketed her near some hay and water, and then lifted the woman off the horse. As soon as her feet hit the ground, she span around and grabbed Connor by the hair, pulling his lips closer to hers.

Connor couldn't find it in himself to object.

He didn't know what they were doing, but it was certainly... pleasant. The woman was intoxicating. Her hair smelled like pine needles, and her lips! Where could Connor begin? They were soft, full. She continued to assault his mouth with this odd action that activated Connor so much. They continued for what felt like forever, before the woman sighed and pulled away from him running her slender fingers through his hair. Her vibrant, green eyes burned into Connor like branding irons, making him feel hot all over. A shiver assaulted his body.

"You are very handsome." She whispered into his ear.

Connor did not know what to say. He had never been called handsome before.

The woman leaned in again, pushing him against the wall. Connor was surprised at how strong she was.  
CLANG!

Connor fell to his knees, then onto his back. His head throbbed as the woman dropped a shovel. The side of his head felt as if it was on fire, and all he could hear was a high pitched ringing.

The woman smiled, bent down and planted a small kiss on his lips. She stood up, then looked towards the barn door. Connor closed his eyes, and when he opened them a farmer was looking down at him, holding the shovel high above his head.

He said something, but his words were distorted to Connor and his eyes closed once more.

His eyes opened to find him tied up inside the barn. He was sitting up against the wall and his head throbbed like nothing he had ever felt before. The woman was crouching behind a haystack, watching the barn doors close. When they were shut, she dashed out from behind the stack.

"Why did you take me here?" She asked in a hushed voice.

Connor took a few moments to register her words before he replied.

"To sleep. It is warm and sheltered here, and after that I was going to take you to Boston."

"Then, I was not meant to be your slave?"

"Slave?" Asked Connor, surprised. "No! I rescued you! Then you started doing that odd action with your mouth and I did not know what to do."

The girl's eyes widened.

"You let me carry on like that?" She hissed in a dangerously low voice. Connor searched for the shovel, and thankfully it was out of her reach.

"I am not used to your customs. I thought it might have been a way of thanking me." He defended.

SLAP!

The woman's hand flew across his face, stinging his cheek and leaving a red mark there.

"If you had not rescued me from those madmen I would kill you now!" She growled. She got up, span around and walked towards the barn door.

"Wait!" Called Connor.

The woman stopped.

"What is it?" She asked.

"Where do you plan to go? The blizzard is strong, you would be lost in seconds."  
The woman turned around.

"Do you know the way to Boston?" She asked.

"I was heading there before I rescued you."

"You did not rescue me, I could have escaped myself." Snapped the woman.

"I could take you to Boston if you untied me." Offered Connor.

The woman hesitated.

"If I agree to this, we shall go directly to Boston?"

"Yes."

She gave a big sigh, then walked over to the pile of weapons Connor owned. She grabbed his tomahawk and cut the ropes binding him with experience. Connor wondered why this woman was so experienced in the area of fighting. She had obviously handled a tomahawk before.

Connor stood up. He strode over to where his weapons were and checked through them, making sure they were still there. Hidden blades, sword, pistol and other assorted weapons. The tomahawk remained in the woman's hands.

"May I have that?" Asked Connor, motioning towards the tomahawk.

The woman looked down at it, then unwillingly turned it over to Connor.

"Thank you, Miss..."

"Butterfield. Clara Butterfield." She replied.

"Shall we go?" Connor asked.

Clara nodded. "What is your name?"

"Connor Kenway." Connor replied.

Connor opened the barn doors and they mounted his horse again, riding out into the blizzard. The wind was cold and snowflakes assaulted Connor's face, stinging as they rode through the trees, his horse winding her way around the trunks.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello readers!**

**I don't really know how to put author's notes into my story, I'm just guessing people write in bold? Please leave reviews, and thank you so much for your support! The story is a little slow-moving at first, and I'm sorry, but it does speed up a little later! Feel free to leave suggestions about anything, and if there is another way to put author's notes into a published story please tell me!**

CHAPTER 2

As night descended upon them, Connor rode to a cave he knew of, not far from them. He knew where every cave, every pond was in this forest.

It was a large cave, large enough for two humans and a horse to sleep comfortably in. Connor built a fire in the centre, sitting near it and trying to warm up. Clara stayed near the edge of the cave, eyeing the fire warily.

"Miss Butterfield, please come and warm up. You'll become sick." Connor warned. He called her by her last name, knowing that was the proper way to talk to a settler lady.

"I shall be fine where I am, Mr Kenway." Replied Clara, also calling him by his surname. She tried to act as if she were warm but a tremor wracked her body and she shuddered violently. Connor stood up and picked up Clara by the shoulders, forcing her to the fire. She resisted at first, but as the warmth touched her body she subcumed to it, falling roughly onto her behind.

"Miss Butterfield, why did you avoid the fire?" Asked Connor.

"My little sister was killed in a fire, many years ago." Replied Clara.

They sat there in silence. Neither one of them was the talkative type.

"What business have you in Boston, Miss Butterfield?" Asked Connor.

"I live there. I was on my way back from New York, visiting my brother." Replied Clara. "Why are you headed to Boston?"  
"I was going to catch a ship back to my home." Replied Connor. He seemed unwilling to share anymore, so Clara did not ask.

Connor continued to stare at the fire. He did not hate it, as Clara seemed to, because it was not the fire that had killed his mother. It was Charles Lee. He had ordered his village to be burned to the ground. The flames licked at each other like a ravenous beast, twirling around each other like fiery ballerinas in a complex dance.

"What was it that you did to me, back in the barn?" Asked Connor.

"I hit you over the head with a shovel." Replied Clara.

"No, before that."  
"I-I kissed you." Said Clara, confused. "Why? Have you not kissed before?" She asked.

"No, I have not." He replied.

Clara was surprised. Connor was handsome, she had meant that. She supposed it was his native features that kept the women from him, but it didn't bother her. She cared not for a man's blood or heritage. She only cared if he could hold a sword and keep a brain in between his ears. Looks mattered little to her, though it was a good thing if she could look at a man without retching.

Connor felt the same way. He did not care for the women in cities who felt the need to wear large dresses and garments that restricted their breathing. Clara had no need for these; her stomach was flat and firm with muscle, and she had a pleasing figure. No need for corsets or layers of fabric to cover up her bodily flaws, like so many other women thought so.

"Are you hungry, Miss Butterfield? I'm do not have any fresh food, only dried meat." Connor asked.  
"That will do nicely, Mr Kenway. I have no desire or need for delicacies."  
Connor stood up and walked to the saddle bags, retrieving several strips of dried meat. He appreciated Clara's hardiness; he had an inkling she was not going to be hard to travel with. He threw two strips of meat to Clara over the fire, along with his water canteen. She took a long swig of water before throwing it back to Connor and devouring her meat strips. She had no concern for manners, at least not when she was in a cave with a strange man. Connor ate his food quietly, drinking from his water every so often. When their stomachs had food and their throats water, Connor went outside and swept up two large handfuls of snow, throwing them over the fire. The fire died down and Connor stamped on the remaining embers to completely put out the fire.

"Why did you do that? Now it shall become cold when we sleep." Protested Clara.

"Not if we sleep close to each other." Replied Connor.

Clara widened her eyes.

"I may not care whether I eat dried meat than fresh, but I will _not _sleep with a man I just met!" Exclaimed Clara.

"Miss Butterfield, I meant no disrespect. I only meant that if we sleep next to each other we would conserve our body heat and stay warmer."

Clara hesitated, then nodded. Connor scooted over to her. She leaned against him, suddenly very tired, and fell asleep quickly. Connor looked at her, taking in her features.

She had long black hair which was tied up in a low ponytail, a blue ribbon tying it together. Her eyes were closed, and free of the makeup which so many women caked their faces with. Her lips were full and heart shaped, and her nose was small and button-like.

Her body was hard with muscle. Not so much that she was bulky and broad like a man, but she had the look of a thief. Small, agile and strong.

Connor lay back on the smooth stone and closed his eyes, waiting for sleep to find him.

When he woke, it was to find the growl of a wolf assault his ears and the glare of its yellow eyes staring him in the face.

It stared down at Connor, growling and snarling. It snapped at him, and out of reflex Connor flicked out his hidden blades, stabbing it in the chest. It whimpered and went limp, and Connor threw it aside. He looked around the cave, alert for more danger. At the mouth of the cave, four more wolves lurked. They ran towards him and snapped at him, their fangs sharp and dangerous. Connor heard a loud growl behind him and turned to see a wolf lunge at him.

He quickly sidestepped the beast. When he looked around the cave, he could not find Clara anywhere, as if the young woman had disappeared into thin air. As he was worrying about this, he suddenly felt a sharp pain in his shoulder, and when he looked down he saw a wolf clamped onto him. He quickly stabbed it through the eye, his heart drumming and hot blood staining his uniform.

Connor had no time for pain, though. Not when his life was at risk. He flicked out his hidden blade, crouching and preparing himself for the fight. A wolf lunged at him, knocking him onto the ground. Connor barely managed to hold back its snarling jaws and killed it with a blade to the throat. There were two wolves still left, snarling and snapping at Connor, prowling around him in a circle. Suddenly Connor heard a noise, footsteps at the mouth of the cave, and as they reached him he felt a tugging at his belt. He saw Clara's hand grasping his tomahawk, pulling it out of his belt. She fearlessly ran towards the wolves, dispatching them both with powerful strikes to their bodies. When their bodies lay still on the ground, Clara rushed over to Connor.

"Mr Kenyway!" She exclaimed. "Are you harmed?"  
Connor pressed a hand to his shoulder, wincing. "It is nothing. We must continue to Boston if we want to reach the city before nightfall."  
"Mr Kenway, do not be so foolish! That will become infected if left untreated." Clara replied.

She walked over to the saddle bags, rummaging around. She eventually pulled out several strips of linen, and returned to Connor with them in her hands.

"Mr Kenway, I must ask that you please take off your shirt." Said Clara, blushing slightly.

"What? Why should I do such a thing?" Demanded Connor.

"If you wish me to bandage your shoulder so we can continue on to Boston, you will have to remove your shirt."  
Connor undressed the top half of his uniform. He was extremely well muscled, from years of wielding weapons. His shoulder was bloody. There was a mean looking bite on it. The wolf's teeth had not torn away any of the flesh, thanks to Connor's armour, but they had penetrated the surface. Clara had seen this sort of bite mark before and knew they could become infected if left untreated.

She took the linen and wound it around Connor's shoulder, trying not to hurt him. It did not hurt Connor; he was used to pain, but he appreciated Clara's efforts all the same.

"Miss Butterfield, where were you when the wolves came?" Asked Connor.

"I heard a noise. Shouting. I went to check outside to see who was causing all the commotion." Clara replied.

"And did you discover who it was?"  
"I did. There was a British camp, just over the other side of the mountain. It was lucky you thought to put out the fire, Mr Kenway, else they would have discovered us and most likely have thought you had kidnapped me."  
Connor suddenly looked worried.

"What is it, Mr Kenway?" Asked Clara, worried.

"I am not on the best terms with the British." Replied Connor. It was indeed lucky he had thought to put out their fire.

Clara finished bandaging Connor's shoulder, and he quickly donned his uniform again. He might be resistant to the cold, but he was not impervious to it.

"We should continue towards Boston." Said Connor.

He stood up and lifted the saddle bags onto his horse. She had run off into the forest during the wolf attack but loyally returned. Connor rubbed her snout lovingly; she was a good horse.

Clara walked over to the horse, rubbing her neck as she went past. Connor held out a hand to Clara, offering her help as she grasped the top of the saddle. Clara ignored it, however, and pulled herself up onto the horse, swinging her legs over the beauty's back. She refused to ride side saddle; it was impractical, not to mention uncomfortable. Connor climbed up as well, and they trotted out of the cave.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello readers! I really appreciate the support I've been getting from you, but I would LOVE some reviews! Please feel free to point out any flaws or typos, and I love constructive criticism! -JennaKobis**

CHAPTER 3

"How old are you, Miss Butterfield?" Asked Connor as they trotted along.

"I am seventeen. But you should not ask that to ordinary women; they would not like to be questioned about their age. It is a sensitive topic to women who value youth and beauty."  
"And you do not value those traits?"  
"I value anyone who has a brain inside their skull and arms strong enough to lift a sword or a bow. I value loyalty and smarts, not appearances and riches and dresses."  
Connor nodded thoughtfully. He quite liked this woman.

"But how old are you, Mr Kenway?" Asked Clara.  
"I am also seventeen." Replied Connor.

This surprised Clara. Though Connor did not look very old, he acted very mature. She supposed events had happened in his past that had changed him; much like Clara herself.

Suddenly Connor stopped. He could hear men shouting, coming from not too far in front of them.

"Stay here." Connor said to Clara. She nodded, and sat back in the saddle, stretching her neck. She was not alarmed; she could easily escape most situations.

Connor leapt from the horse's back to a branch above them. He pulled himself up, continuing through the trees until Clara was almost out of sight. He peered through the trees, looking for the source of the voices. He found it almost immediately, a large British encampment. It was obviously a fairly recent development, as Connor had passed this way not a month ago. The paths between tents were worn and muddy. He headed back to Clara, who was patting the horse's neck. Connor jumped down from the tree, rolling to absorb the impact when his feet met the ground.

"We should be able to bypass the British if we keep quiet and avoid their patrols; it should not be too difficult." Connor told Clara.

She nodded, and the two of them set off, trotting parallel to the British camp. They kept as quiet as possible, as did the horse who knew from her owner's behaviour to not snort or make noise. She was a smart horse.

Connor strained his eyes and ears, on the lookout for any patrols. If he was to be caught by the British, it would be disastrous, especially since the death of his father.

Connor had no choice. His father had to be killed, and Connor was the one to do it. It would have been nice to perhaps get to know his father, but "nice" is a luxury Connor had never had the fortune to know. He had killed his father, an evil Templar. He did not regret it; but there was a part of him that would always wonder about Haytham Kenway.

Connor jerked out of his thoughts, scolding himself for drifting at a time as urgent as this. Luckily nothing of importance had transpired during those few seconds, but as an Assassin he always had to be alert, always on the lookout for danger.

"Mr Kenway, up ahead." Whispered Clara, pointing in front of them. In the snow was a troop of seven men with guns in their hands. They were a patrol group, and Connor's heart beat faster. Had they been spotted?  
The men were laughing, just as any man would to pass the time in the cold, wet snow. It appeared they had not been discovered.

Clara and Connor kept quiet. Connor quietly dismounted his horse and lead her through the trees, slowly, taking care not to make any sudden movements.

"Oi. Did you 'ear that?" Asked one of the guards loudly.

They all looked up and around, searching for the source of the noise. One of them pointed at Connor and Clara.

"Over there." He whispered.

All the men slowly and quietly headed towards them, weapons raised.

"Miss Butterfield, you _must _trust me." Whispered Connor as he climbed the nearest tree. He tossed his tomahawk down to Clara, who opened her mouth in outrage – for how dare he abandon her at a time like this – but he did not stray further than the same tree he climbed up. He positioned himself above the soldiers, waiting for the right opportunity. He was not sure he would even need harm the soldiers, for Clara might be able to talk her way out of the situation. The soldiers reached her.

"Madam, you are in an unauthorized zone." Said one of them.

"Oh, am I?" Asked Clara using the sweet voice she first used on Connor. "I did not realize. If you would point me in the right direction, I would continue on my way." She said with a charming smile.

"Madam, I am sorry, but you'll have to come with us. A woman should not be out in this horrible weather." One of them said slyly.

"Oh, well that is very gracious of you, but I really must be getting along."

Clara urged the horse forward, just a walk.

"Madam! I'm afraid not. You will come with us back to our camp." One of them said, grabbing her ankle.

Connor knew it could not get any better from here, so he leapt out of the tree, landing on a guard and stabbing him through the neck with his hidden blade. The guards leapt at him and suddenly a fight ensued. Clara leapt off the horse and swung the tomahawk at a guard, and Connor killed another with his blades. Together they surely would have killed all the guards if it had not been for one who slammed the butt of his gun into the back of Connor's head. He fell to the ground, unconscious and unmoving.

"Mr Kenway, get up!" Exclaimed Clara, knowing she could not kill all these guards without his help. They picked her up by the waist and carried her back to the camp.

**Let me know what you thought of that chapter! Review it, and let me know if you would like anything to be added. I am completely open to plot suggestions, and even though I will be following the storyline or AC3, it won't be completely rigid. Does that make sense?**

**Leave a review, or favourite and follow if you thought my story was good enough! Love from JennaKobis.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey guys!**

**I need more reviews! PLEASE! It makes me so happy when someone follows, favourites or reviews my story and it really inspires me to keep writing! So please, please, PLEASE review and give me some constructive criticism or ask questions or even give me ideas for the plot! I am very open with plot ideas and if I like them you might see your idea in my next chapters!**

CHAPTER 4

When they arrived at the camp, Clara was taken into a small tent. She saw them take Connor to another part of the camp, but then the tent obscured her vision.

"Let me out, you monsters! I shall cut off each of your heads!" She screamed at them, full of rage.

She soon ceased shouting, for she had come up with a plan to escape. Maybe. She would have to wait a while, so it would not seem suspicious, so at around midday she set her plan into motion.

"Oh..." She moaned in her most provocative voice.

One of the men poked his head inside her tent.

"Can I help you, madam?" He asked.

"I'm suddenly feeling awfully cold. That wretched savage did not give me any blankets through last night. I feel very sick." She said in a small voice, with an elegant little sneeze at the end.

"Why is he wretched?" Asked the man.

"He kidnapped me and threatened me to do what I was told. That's why I attacked you. I am awfully sorry for my actions."  
The man's eyes widened, then he pulled his head out of the tent. Clara listened to their conversation.

"...said she was kidnapped by the savage. Apparently she's sick. I'm not sure if the Commander would like her being in this tent if she's loyal to us."

Another man sighed. "Very well. I'll talk to the Commander. I'm sure he'll find some... use... for her."  
The first man laughed evilly. Clara heard footsteps in mud and then the pitter-patter of rain.

After a while, the man returned.

"Commander wants her in his tent now." He said. He entered Clara's tent and lead her to the Commander's tent. Clara entered the large canvas structure and saw the large, beefy man. He had a beard with crumbs left in it, and his large muscles bulged through his uniform. As he saw Clara his eyes widened in delight.

"May I help you, madam? My name is Commander Thomas. My men said you were sick. Please, sit down."  
"I lied. I am not sick. I merely wanted to see you. For what woman does not wish to meet the great Commander Thomas?" Clara asked in a seductive tone.

Commander Thomas smiled slyly, and walked over to Clara.

"Well, even if you are not sick, you could catch a cold. Let me help you warm up." He said.

"But my skirt and top is wet. What should I do with them?" Asked Clara with a smile. Commander Thomas laughed, anticipating what might come next.

Clara slipped off her shirt to reveal the white chemise underneath. It was a short cut, for she did not like the way it flapped underneath her skirt. She walked towards Commander Thomas, smiling at him. Her eyes darted to his belt, where she saw his gun was held. It would do nicely.

Clara walked into the Commander's arms, taking his gun from his belt. She was quite practiced in the art of pickpocketing, and while he was distracted with trying to slip down her skirt she stepped back and slammed the gun into his stomach. He doubled over, groaning loudly in pain. From outside the tent Clara heard soldiers laughing knowingly, but she blocked the unpleasant noise out. Clara slammed the handle of the gun over the back of Commander Thomas' head, and he collapsed onto the floor. She buttoned up her shirt again, feeling nude without it, and exited the tent by squeezing underneath the canvas on the other side of the tent. The guards did not notice her leave, and she looked around, figuring out where to go next. She saw a tree, and remembering how Connor had expertly climbed one earlier, she began to climb. She had climbed trees before, but not since she was a child.

Clara remembered everything. In fact, it was not unlike climbing buildings. She reached the top of the tree and looked around her.

The forest was covered by a sheet of snow, as were the tents below her. She looked for a sign of Connor, but reality failed to realize her hopes. She could not see Connor anywhere, but wherever he was, Clara suspected he would not be having a pleasant time.

**Let me know what you thought of that chapter! I'm really sorry about the short chapters, and the next one is super short too, so I'll probably publish it at the same time as this one. They do get a lot longer again though! Review it, and let me know if you would like anything to be added. I am completely open to plot suggestions, and even though I will be following the storyline or AC3, it won't be completely rigid. Does that make sense?**

**Leave a review, or favourite and follow if you thought my story was good enough! Love from JennaKobis.**


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

Connor groaned as he woke up. His head throbbed again, and he was freezing. He tried to get up but his wrists and ankles were tied to a post. He looked around and saw what looked like a stable, with his horse tied up a few meters away from him. His weapons lay in a pile out of his reach.

Connor coughed. The air was stinging his lungs. His breath frosted in front of him, and as he looked around he realized he was in the British camp. Soldiers walked past him, neither caring nor reacting to him. The sun was high up in the sky; midday. Connor was not thirsty or hungry – yet – but he knew that would pass. He was on his knees, leaning against the post he was tied to.

Suddenly a man walked towards him. He was obviously some sort of lieutenant, but they way he carried himself told Connor he was not the leader of this camp. He was tall and thin, with two men trailing behind him. He walked under the cover of the stables.

"So, Assassin. I have been told not to kill you, but my commander told me nothing about harming you." He said. He walked over to Connor, sneering at him.

And he punched him in the face.

"Look at me when I talk to you, savage!" He exclaimed.

Connor spat out blood onto the ground near the lieutenant, glaring at him.

"Very well." Said the lieutenant.

He stood up, turned away, but at the last minute he turned back and kicked Connor in the ribs, winding him and causing a great deal of pain to spike up Connor's stomach. Connor coughed and tried to breathe, while glaring at the lieutenant.

"What do you want?" Spat Connor.

"Nothing. I only feel that vermin such as yourself need be brought down to their proper place in society, which is of course at the feet of true men such as myself." He sneered.

Connor coughed up another few drops of blood. His nose was bleeding profusely. The lieutenant punched him in the face again, right in the eye. Connor felt dizzy, and the world went upside down. He sank onto his side, and the lieutenant laughed.

"Look at how easily you fall to your place!" He exclaimed.

Connor rose up again, onto his knees, panting. He was punched in the mouth this time, and although no teeth came out, his lip split and bled. His uniform was being stained a deep red.

Far behind the lieutenant he thought he saw Clara's face. But then it was gone. Connor supposed he had been hit in the head too much.

But there it was again, and Clara looked directly at Connor, dashing from tent to tent until she reached the stable. Then she hid behind the stables, and Connor knew he had to distract the lieutenant.

"Why are you superior? If you really are so much more civilized than I, why do feel the need to pound me?" He asked.

The lieutenant stopped and stared at Connor. Clara reached Connor's weapons and grabbed the tomahawk, her weapon of choice.

"You dare insult me? Question me?" Hissed the lieutenant, murderous. He pulled out his sword and held it an inch from Connor's throat. Connor stiffened his neck but stared the lieutenant right in the eye.

What was Clara doing?  
The lieutenant lowered his sword and, very slowly, pushed it towards Connor's chest. The second it touched Connor the lieutenant stopped. He fell forwards and behind him stood Clara, the tomahawk in her hands bloody. The two henchmen that had been guarding the lieutenant sprung at Clara, but she twisted and turned, chopped and hacked until they lay at her feet, completely still. She turned to Connor and, again, chopped the ropes binding him.

"Mr Kenway, if you don't mind I would appreciate it if you stopped allowing yourself to be tied up." Joked Clara.

Connor stood up, his body aching a great deal, and walked over to his horse. She was unfased by the bloody ordeal that had just occurred. Connor climbed up onto her back, as did Clara.

"We must go, unless we wish to be caught again." Said Clara. Connor nodded, and they walked out of the stable. Connor tried to guide his horse around the tents, but sneaking around on horseback is a great deal harder than on foot. They were soon noticed, so Connor urged his horse forward and they sped off. Guns were fired at them, but none hit. Men chased after them but no man can compete with a galloping horse who was bred for speed. Connor and Clara sped off into the woods, and soon the British troops realized they hadn't a hope in the world of catching up. Connor and Clara continued onwards, towards Boston. The sun was blocked by thick, grey clouds, but it still faintly glowed through the dark grey mass that loomed in front of them. Every step his horse ran would send spikes of pain through Connor's ribs, but he did not complain. It would not do him any good. After several hours, they stopped the horse. It was sunset, and they were around an hour's travel from the city. Connor jumped off his horse, and his ribs felt as if they were on fire. He ignored it, for no good would ever come from complaining. Clara saw Connor's face, bloody and bruised. She approached him and pulled out a handkerchief from a pocket in her skirt. Thankfully it was clean, so she used it to clean Connor's wounds.

She grasped his face, her hands surprisingly warm, and dabbed at his lip with the handkerchief. Connor winced and pulled back, but realized Clara was trying to help, so he leaned forwards again.

"How did you escape?" He asked.

Clara made a face of disgust. "I was forced to extremely low levels. That is all I shall say on the subject." She said.

Clara cleaned up the dried blood on Connor's lip, and inspected his nose.

"You are lucky it is not broken." She said. The blood had stopped flowing from his nose, and it was dry as well, so she cleaned it up as well. There was nothing she could do for his eye, so they mounted Connor's horse again and set off for the city.

They reached Boston by nightfall. The rain had not arrived yet, but Connor was sure it would by tomorrow.

They entered the city and Connor slowed his horse to a walk.

"Where is your home?" He asked Clara.

"Past the harbor." She replied.

They rode past buildings, and as always Connor couldn't understand why they needed so many shops. He was fascinated by the city, but at the same time nurtured a strong distrust for it; something unfortunate happened almost every time he entered it.

The snow covered rooves but not streets; people were constantly walking them, so the snow would not stick there.

They reached the harbor, and Connor dismounted the horse, wincing as his feet hit the ground. He walked over to the harbor master.

"When does the next ship sail for Davenport?" He asked.

"You just missed it. There's another that sails tomorrow at noon." The harbor master replied.

Connor felt a tinge of annoyance, but he pushed it aside.

"Thank you." He said, nodding.

He returned to his horse. Clara was waiting, but several men were staring at her, or rather her buttocks. For some strange reason, this annoyed Connor.

"When does the ship sail?" Asked Clara.

"Tomorrow at noon." Replied Connor.

"Have you a place to stay?" Asked Clara.

"No. I will find an inn and stay there."  
"Mr Kenyway, you saved my life. You kept me fed. I shall not have you sleeping in an inn. You will sleep in my home. I have plenty of room, and you will be comfortable." Clara said.

"Thank you, Miss Butterfield."  
"Please, call me Clara."  
"And you shall call me Connor." Replied Connor.

Clara smiled and nodded. She had a beautiful smile. It muddled Connor's thoughts. He wondered why on earth she was having such an impact on him.

They continued through the city, Clara giving Connor instructions. They stopped in front of a medium sized house.

It was red brick, with white painted windows and roses growing on one side of the wall. It was three stories, adjoined with the other houses along the street.

"You can tie up your horse here. She will be safe and fed." Said Clara.

They hopped off the horse but Connor landed too hard, and his ribs sent up spikes of red hot pain.

"Ah!" Winced Connor.

"What is it?" Asked Clara, concerned.

"Nothing. I am fine." Replied Connor.

Clara raised an eyebrow at the man, doubtful. She walked up to her front door, and she was about halfway there when a shout arose from the crowd.

"Clara!"  
She spun around, not quite recognising the voice. Her chest grew red with anger and annoyance. Robert, an annoying suitor who would not give up on Clara, was walking towards her.

"Oh, Clara dear?" He called tauntingly.

She hurriedly tried to open her door. She knocked on her door, begging for her housekeeper, Ruth, to open the door.

It was to no avail, as Robert reached her.

"Darling, where have you been?" He asked.

He was a handsome man, and wealthy; it was true. But Clara did not care for him one bit, as he was as annoying as a housefly who whizzes around your head refusing to be quiet.

"That is none of your business, Robert." She replied curtly.

"Now, Clara. That is no way to address a suitor." Warned Robert. He extended a hand up to touch her face. She leaned away from his hand, glaring at him.

Connor had been tying up his horse and making sure she was taken care of, but when he turned around he saw Robert clearly making Clara uncomfortable. He wondered why Clara did not respond with violence, as he thought she would, but it did not matter. He quickly approached them.

"Is everything alright, Clara?" He asked, glaring at Robert. He was around the same height as Robert, but more built. Connor appeared to tower over Robert.

"No, Connor, everything is fine." She replied, giving a hateful look at Robert. "Where is Ruth?" She wondered quietly.

"Very well then, Clara. I shall return, and you shall fall. I shall conquer your heart!" Robert exclaimed. Clara cringed at his statement.

Robert grabbed Clara's hand roughly, much too hard. It hurt her hand, and he pulled her closer.

"You _will_ be mine!" He whispered cruelly to her. He squeezed her hand so hard she cried out, and was just about to push him away when he was pushed forward, onto Clara. He was pulled back abruptly, and behind him was Connor. Robert was dragged by his neck to the wall of Clara's house, where Connor shoved him against it.

"She clearly is not interested in you. Leave Clara alone, and your face shall remain as it is." Connor growled.

"Savage!" Barked Robert.

Connor's fist darted up and punched Robert, hard, in the nose. It started to bleed, and Connor grabbed Robert's shirt and tossed him onto the street. He scrambled to his feet and sprinted away.

"Clara? What's happened?" Exclaimed a woman.

Clara turned around with relief as Ruth's voice sounded out.

"Ruth! Where have you been?" She asked.

"I was shopping for groceries." Ruth replied. "Well, you'd best come in. I don't think the guards would appreciate us loitering around a fight scene."  
She pulled a set of keys from under her coat, and unlocked the door. Connor and Clara entered the house. Connor was welcomed by a warm, welcoming light as he stepped inside Clara's house.

"I'll start preparing dinner. It should be ready in an hour." Ruth said. She was a middle-aged woman, plump and cheery. Her red cheeks and smile were very kind.

"Connor, if you'd follow me I will show you where you shall sleep tonight." Said Clara. He followed her up the stairs, where there were several doors leading into different rooms. Clara lead Connor into the end door, opening it for him.

It was a small room, with a bed in one corner and a table, dresser and mirror on the opposite side. The bed was a rich, wine red. The pillow was plump, and after the long day of travelling nothing could have looked more inviting to Connor. All he wanted to do was collapse onto it, but Clara was standing in the doorway.

"Thank you for your hospitality." He said to her.

"Connor, don't be ridiculous. You saved my life-"

"And you saved mine." Countered Connor.

"Well, I'm still very grateful to you, and it didn't seem right that you stay in some cheap inn when I have plenty of room here." Clara told Connor.

Connor smiled at her. It wasn't a full smile, just a small one, but it filled Clara with a sort of giddy happiness.

"Clara, when we first met..." Started Connor.

"And I kissed you?" Asked Clara.

"Yes... why did you take so long to hit me? Why didn't you just... kiss... for a second, then hit me?" Asked Connor.

"Maybe it was to distract you more... or maybe because I liked it." Said Clara with a broad smile. Connor blushed profusely, and Clara left the room.

Connor sat down on his bed, feeling the soft fabric, running his fingers along it. He heard a knock at his door.

"Erm... hello?" Asked Ruth. "Um, these. Clothes. For you." She said, loudly and slowly.

"I speak English, ma'am. You need not speak slowly or loudly, I will understand. I have spoken English since I was four years old." Explained Connor.

"Oh. I'm so very sorry, Mr Kenway." Apologised Ruth, blushing.

"I do not mind. Why have you brought me clothes?"  
"Miss Butterfield told me to bring them to you. She said she would not have you at the dinner table with all of your weapons."  
Connor laughed internally. How amusing Clara was. She would simply not take no for an answer.

"Please tell Miss Butterfield that I will wear these clothes, and thank her for me." He said.

"Yes, Mr Kenway." Replied Ruth. She placed the clothes on the dresser and left the room. Connor took off his uniform and remembered his aching ribs. He knew they were not broken, but they could possibly be cracked or bruised. He saw the colossal, purple bruise that spread across his side and winced. He poked it, and his ribs twinged.

He pulled on the pants; grey and thick. They were surprisingly comfortable. The shirt was white, and he had been given a grey waistcoat to go over the top. He saw himself in the mirror and stared.

Instead of the Assassin, he saw a man. A perfectly normal man, except for his hair. He was not sure if he liked what he saw, but it certainly was different. His dark skin looked nice with the white shirt, and his deep brown eyes scanned over himself. His muscled arms seemed to burst out from the shirt.

He exited his room and went downstairs. Clara and Ruth were sitting at the dining table. Clara had changed out of her blood-stained, dirty blouse and skirt with a blood red dress. It was also without a corset or layers of fabric, but simply hung down from her waist. There was a white trim around the neck and wristlines.

"Connor, come and sit down." Invited Clara.

**I know I said this chapter was going to be short, but it turned out a lot longer than I expected! Please review! I love to read reviews but I haven't gotten many yet. It makes me really happy when someone reviews or favourites or follows!**


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

Connor woke up from his dream with a start. His eyes were temporarily blinded by the bright sun that was streaming through his window. He rubbed his eyes, unable to forget the dream.

He had dreamed of the day his mother died. He could still remember the fire, the choking smoke, and the man responsible for it all; Charles Lee. Once again, a deep seated rage filled Connor and his hands shook when he remembered the grief and anger. There was a knock on the door, and Connor gave a start.

"Connor, you'd best wake up. The ship leaves in a half hour." Called Clara.

"Thank you." He called back.

He stood up and looked outside. The bright, bustling city helped to calm his nerves. Connor dressed himself in his usual armour, then went downstairs.

Clara was standing at the front door. Robert was back, and Connor was suddenly filled with anger.

"Robert, for the last time, _I am not interested_!" Exclaimed Clara.

"Why not? I have attempted to woo you for as long as you have been seventeen! When will you come around? What will it take?" Asked Robert angrily.

"You are a selfish man! You manipulate women so you can get what you want! I've seen you beat people because of the colour of their skin, or the way they talk! I never want to be your wife, and I don't see why any other woman would!" Yelled Clara. She had a temper to rival a lion's, and in a moment of irrational anger she pushed Robert out the door. His face turned from a charming smile to a mask of fury, and he grabbed Clara by her wrists, forcing her against the wall. He pressed his lips to hers, forcing himself upon her, and she struggled against him. He pulled back, still grasping her wrists.

"Let me _go, _you bastard!" Exclaimed Clara, not using very ladylike language at all. She kicked Robert between his legs, and he fell to his knees, crying out. He let go of Clara's wrists, and she grabbed his head and smashed it into the side of the house. His head bled profusely. Clara was just about to continue to attack him, but Connor sprung forward.

"Clara, stop! You'll kill him." He said, holding Clara's shoulders.

"Good!" She growled, breathing hard and struggling futilely against Connor's strong arms. He dragged her inside and shut the door, Robert moving slightly. Clara stopped struggling. She took several deep breaths and seemed to calm down.

"I'm sorry, Connor." She finally said, looking down at her feet. "I have always had a problem with my temper. I'm just so tired of suitors knocking at my door! And my parents encourage them, because they dream of riches and going to expensive parties. They care only for themselves."

"I am sorry." Apologised Connor.

"Why are you sorry?"  
"I should have helped."  
"Connor, I can fight for myself. It was satisfying." Clara admitted.

Connor glanced at the clock. In 20 minutes he had to be at the harbor, or he would miss the ship.

Connor nodded.

"You are an unusual woman." He said with a small smile. "But you can fight, and I have a feeling you will need that skill. Goodbye, and thank you again." He said honestly.

"Thank you, Connor. I think I might have gone insane if it weren't for you." Clara said. She stepped forward and planted a small kiss on his cheek. It left Connor blushing, but it felt nice. More honest than the one in the barn.

Connor turned, then stopped. He had to ask Clara a question.

"Clara." He began, not quite sure what the right words were.

"Yes?" She asked, curious.

"Why did you help me? You probably would have found your way back to Boston from the barn, and you invited me into your home after knowing me for only three days." Said Connor, his eyes burning with some unrecognisable emotion.

Clara stopped for a moment. She honestly had no idea why she had helped him. She had meant what she said, back in the barn, when she told him she would have killed him. No one had ever helped her; everyone either feigned ignorance or simply didn't care, and here was this strange man who had saved her life after knowing her for only a few days.

"You are a man who helps people. You don't stop, you don't think about yourself, only of others. This world needs more people like you. I couldn't let that go to waste. I fight, like you; I am always fighting in my own way, but one woman can't do everything on her own, just as one man can't. People like us need another to watch our backs." Clara said. She was surprised at how wise she sounded.

Connor nodded. "That was very wise." He glanced at the clock again; 15 minutes.

"Until we meet again, Connor." Said Clara.

"Until we meet again, Miss Butterfield." Said Connor with a small smile. He pushed his hood up, and turned around.

He left the house, closing the door behind him. He made his way to the docks by rooftop, and arrived just in time to board the ship. As he stood on the deck, he stared back at Boston, his thoughts on Clara. She was a unique woman, someone who could hold her own in most situations. Connor had never believed that females were the weaker gender, and his previous experience had strengthened that belief.

Clara looked at the closed door, thinking about the past few days.

Then she remembered that her parents were coming back from New York that night, and her heart filled with dread. She had been raised to be a perfect little British girl, whose only purpose in life was to find a husband and pleasure him, and live the secret life of a T...

No, Clara did not want to even _think _that word.

"Miss Butterfield, I just received a telegram. Your parents are arriving early. They will be here this afternoon." Ruth said.

Clara turned around and saw the sad, understanding look in Ruth's eyes.

"Oh, Ruth. What can I do?" She asked sadly.

"You are a strong woman. You shall bear this out, and in the end you shall come out stronger than ever."  
"But I cannot bear it. I simply can't." Clara cried.

"You must. You shall wait until spring, when the weather is right, and you shall run to another city and start a life there." Ruth advised.

Clara walked into the lady's arms, and Ruth patted her on the back.

"There, there, child. All will be well. Do not fret." She comforted.

Clara gave a big sigh, and stepped back.

"Well, you may as well help me put my corset and dress on." Clara said, resigned.

She walked upstairs to her bedroom, sick of the act. Her parents knew she wasn't a lady; in fact, Clara was far from ever being a lady, but they still tried to stamp out the rouge girl in her. They made her wear corsets that constricted her breathing and made it difficult to sit. They forced her into dresses that took up half her bedroom. They made her cake her face with make-up, for it was believed to be pretty. Clara hated all these things, and could not wait for the summer when she could follow Ruth's advice.

Clara entered her room and walked to her four poster bed. She grabbed one of the posters with dread, as Ruth brought the corset ever closer. She fitted it onto Clara's body and began to pull the strings, so much that when she tied the strings together Clara could hardly breathe. A small tear leaked out of Clara's eye, and she was ashamed of herself for crying.

As Clara put on her dress, it fanned out below her so that she found it very difficult to get through her bedroom door. As soon as she got downstairs the doorbell rang, and she opened it to see her mother and father standing there. Her mother, a thin, pointy and rather ugly woman filled Clara with disgust and hatred and other violent emotions as she stood there. Her father, on the other hand, filled her with only one emotion; fear.

He was the only thing Clara had ever feared. If she put one toe out of line, she would get a thorough beating, and Clara had many scars from that horrible man.

"Why is there blood on my house?" Hissed Clara's father.

Clara couldn't speak.

"Robert approached us as we were coming home. He said you attacked him." Barked her mother.

"Inside. Now." Said Clara's father.

He took Clara by the hair and led her inside. As soon as they were in the house, Clara's mother slammed the door. Her father brought his hand hard and fast across Clara's face. She fell to the floor painfully.

"WHAT WERE YOU THINKING? THAT MAN IS RICH, HE IS HANDSOME! WHY WILL YOU NOT ACCEPT HIM?" Screamed her father.

Clara pressed her hand to her cheek, which was swelling up fast. As she brought it away from her face she saw a small amount of blood.

"Answer your father!" Screeched her mother.

Clara still could not find words. She could only think of Connor for some strange reason. She could only think of how he had risked his life for her. He was so brave. Clara wished he could be here now. She had always tried to resist her parents, to stand up to them, but even though she could leap into a sword fight, fearless, the two people standing before her instilled fear in Clara like nothing could.

And Clara was afraid. Miserable. She could see no hope, and wondered if she could wait until the spring. Eight weeks seemed like an eternity.


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello kids! I just wanted to let you know that the story will now be from Clara's perspective. It'll probably change because I'm really indecisive about this sort of thing! If you just want me to write in third person, let me know, and I'm open to other suggestions of writing styles (tense, point of view, ect) and let me know if you want a Connor POV! Please review, they really inspire me to write more, and I am open to plot suggestions as well! I do not own AC3 or Connor but I do own Clara!**

CHAPTER 7

The cold months of winter had finally passed. It was still wet and mud still covered the streets, but once that was gone I would leave Boston. I felt my heart leap with joy each day that passed, for it meant I was closer to leaving this horrible place. I had escaped my father's wrath for at least two weeks, and no new bruises or cuts adorned my body; though it was still scarred from years of abuse, none were visible unless I was undressed. Ruth had been my pillar of strength through all this, and I thought of her as my true mother.

I dressed myself in a green skirt and dark blue shirt, with a dark blue hooded cloak over the top. I did not wear a corset, and it felt good to be able to move about without restriction. I put my hair in a French braid that extended to my ribcage. I walked outside, pulling up the blue hood as I stepped out into the rain. My hunting pants were worn underneath my skirt, and my pack was stashed away in my bedroom. I knew my parents would never find it.

As always, when the thought of my parents entered my head it brought on several emotions; hate, rage, fear. But the strongest one of all was sadness. All my life I had never wanted much. Just food and shelter. But my parents deprived me of one thing every child should have; love.

I looked up at the sky and once again thought of Connor. I was not even sure he was real. Maybe he was a dream, or a hallucination brought on by one of Father's bashings? The thought that he was not real scared me; it meant I was crazy. That my own mind, my last retreat, was not safe. I was sure he was not real, he couldn't be real, because he had been kind to me. Even when I had threatened to kill him, he had taken me to Boston. No one was ever kind to me, therefore he was not real.

This broke my heart into millions of tiny, painful pieces.

Someone shouted my name, and I saw Ruth dashing through the rain. She puffed and panted, the dear old thing, so I ran to meet her.

"Ruth, what's the matter?" I asked, concerned for her.

"Clara," She panted. "You must go! I know I said you have to wait until the weather is right, but someone told the guards you had-" Ruth said.

"What? What did I do, Ruth?" I ask, getting worried.

"They are coming!" Exclaimed Ruth, looking over my shoulder. From down the street a platoon of guards looked up and down, looking angry and intimidating. They scanned the street, looking supposedly for me, and I made my way to an alleyway.

That was a good thing that had come from years of sneaking around. I knew how to stick to the shadows, and I was very good at it too.

I pulled off my skirt, unbelievably grateful that I was wearing my hunting pants underneath. I ran up the side of the wall, slipping a bit on the wet tiles. My hood had fallen off my head, but I didn't care if my hair got wet. I ran home, over the rooftops, and knocked on the front door. Mother opened it.

"Did you get the vegetables?" She barked.

I shoved past her, not caring about what anyone thought anymore. I only knew I had to get out of there. My mother gasped in shock. I ran up to my room and pulled out my pack from its hiding place. I put on the black waistcoat I had stolen several years ago. It was trimmed with gold thread but I loved it because of the pockets that were perfect for two knives to be stashed in. I checked and they were still in there.

I checked everything was in my pack. Blankets, bow and arrows, quiver, and a small amount of food left over from yesterday when I went hunting. It would not be enough. I pulled my pack on and ran down the stairs when a banging came from the door. I did not open it, and Mother approached me. I did not even wait to hear what she had to say, I simply slammed my palm as hard as I could into her nose. It sprayed blood satisfyingly enough.

I sprinted past my father and into the kitchen as my mother screamed in pain. Father ran over to her and looked at her nose, while I stuffed my pack with food and closed it tight. I pulled it onto my back once again and ran out the back door, into the garden and freedom.

There was no going back. I smiled with a fierce joy.

I ran up a building and made my way by rooftop to the edge of the city. I became startled, paranoid of every rat, every sound, every shadow I encountered. Thunder and lightning lit up the sky. I jumped down into the streets and kept on running until I hit an empty alleyway.

Well, when I say empty I mean empty except for the bastard, Robert.

"Well, Clara, we are in trouble." He laughed.

I tried to dash past him but the alleyway was thin and he caught me. Two of his cronies appeared from doorways and held me firmly by the arms, making escape impossible.

"Clara, I could make all of this go away. I was the one who told the guards you murdered their commander. His body is floating down by the docks." Robert said mockingly.

I gasped angrily. He had framed me, and I had a horrible suspicion that he had some sort of proposition to make.

"I have pursued you for months. You have beauty, your parents are highly regarded amongst the Order, you seemed the perfect wife. You were always so proper in public, and you were very polite the first time we met. Then something changed, and the more you said no, the more I wanted you. But I shall have no more. Say you shall be mine, and the guards will call off any charges against you. Decline, and the guards shall find you in this alleyway." Robert said.

"You... you..." I was so overcome by fury that I couldn't speak. I said the only thing I could say. "I would never marry you in this or any lifetime. I would rather die than be your wife." I hissed.

"Wrong answer." Whispered Robert. He stepped forward so that he was quite close to me, but instead of calling for the guards he rose a hand to my breasts, then to the top button of my shirt. Fear and anger rose up in me, and as I was about to shout out for help, one of the cronies laughed evilly and covered my mouth.

Robert slowly undid my shirt, leaving me exposed and shaking. Tears of anger and fear ran down my cheeks. I would not beg them to stop, though. It would only bring them satisfaction and possibly a knife to my throat. Robert stepped back and looked at me as one would look at a painting in an art gallery.

"Something's still not right. Maybe if we lose the pants..." He trailed off. He stepped forward and stripped my pants off my legs, leaving me trembling and naked. The tears that had been angry turned to grief, and I knew there was no escape. I began to scream and shout, desperate to stop Robert from doing this awful, awful thing to me. I called out for Ruth, for anyone who could help.

"Ah, ah." Said Robert, clasping his hand over my mouth. "We wouldn't want anyone to hear us." He said.

I screamed through his hands and bit into his wrist until I tasted blood. He stepped back, shocked, and I spat his blood into his face.

"You bitch. You'll pay for that!" He screamed. He pulled out a knife and approached me, holding it out to his side. My heart drummed in my ears and in a moment of pure fear my strength spiked. I wrenched my arms out of the two men's grips and spun around to face Robert. The knife did not strike my heart, and it did not kill me.

But it did hit me.

It made a long cut along the side of my body. It was not life-threatening yet, but it would be if I couldn't stop the bleeding. Robert slashed at the air in front of me and I dived for my vest on the ground, ignoring the pain in my side. Blood dribbled out from the cut. I pulled out the knives from my vest. Robert's cronies leaped on me, but I dodged and they went flying. As I was distracted, Robert tried to attack my head, but I partly dodged and it made a deep cut along my cheekbone. I was distracted again by the cronies as they dived on me, and held me down to the ground. I kicked and screamed but no help came. Mud seeped through my hair and the back of my clothes, but I didn't care. Robert approached me with the knife and I struggled even harder. He crouched down beside me and raised the knife high above his head.

And then he was gone.

The two cronies looked up, just as confused as I was, and as I looked over I saw Robert lying still on the ground.

And standing next to him was a man in a white uniform. His hood was drawn up around his face, so that you could only see his mouth. He was very tall, and extremely muscled. He was intimidating to those who didn't know him.

He was Connor Kenway.

I gasped and inside I jumped for joy. On the outside of my mind, I leapt up, ignoring the fact that my shirt was completely open. My knives were lying next to me, so I swooped down and picked them up. The two cronies were fighting Connor, and I leapt onto one of their backs and plunged both knives directly through his chest, into his heart, a vicious, violent anger seethed through me and a rage swept through me like a tidal wave. I killed the other man and then walked over to Robert. He was still breathing, just unconscious. His eyes fluttered open.

"You don't deserve to live." I whispered to him. "You don't deserve anything, yet you had it all. You chose to pursue me, even though I said no a thousand times. You forced yourself on me when I was afraid." I leaned in closer to him, so that my lips almost touched his ears. "And because of that, you die."  
And with that I leaned back, seeing the fear in his eyes. His eyes teared up, and before he could beg for his own life I plunged the knives deep into his chest. He gasped and looked down at his chest, blood red, and I did not feel anything. Not sorrow, not joy. Maybe a little bit of satisfaction. My side twinged and as I looked down at it I saw my shirt was still open, stained with blood. My side had bled too much, and I was weak.

I fell to the ground, tired and fuzzy. My last blurred vision was Connor crouching over me, looking at my side and trying to stop the bleeding. He picked me up, and then there was nothing.

**Okay, I just wanted to say that even though this chapter was nescecary for the plot, I hated writing it. At least the last bit. Is it weird that I feel kind of guilty to Clara? Anyway, leave a review if you liked it or hated it or whatever, and I always appreciate constructive criticism and plot ideas! - JennaKobis**


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

_The pain seared through Clara's whole body, and she let out an awful scream. There was a screeching noise, metallic. Her vision flickered and behind her eyes she could see fire. Two people talked above her. They said something about a Temple... or Templar. Clara simply could not concentrate on their words; she was in too much pain. She opened her eyes and saw her mother's face looking down at her._

I am lying on something soft. Something warm. It's comforting. My eyes open slowly, drowsily, to find myself lying on a bed tangled in the sheets. My side burns as if it is on fire, and my heart is heavy.

Robert had done something to me. Violated me. I am glad I had killed him; I only feel a vicious rage that he hadn't suffered like I did before he died.

Birds chirp outside. From the look of the sun that is streaming in through the window, it is around midday. I have no idea where I am, but I think I am safe. I can hear waves somewhere nearby. I roll over in the sheets, warm and mostly comfortable; except from my side.

The door handle rotates and I sit up, ignoring the pain. Connor steps into the room, his hood off. He glances at the bed and sees me sitting up.

"Clara, are you alright?" He asks, standing in the doorway awkwardly. I notice his hood is down.

"Yes." I say. He doesn't need to worry about me.

Connor is looking away from me, and I wonder what the matter is. I look down, and I see the problem.

I am wearing a nightgown, white and almost see-through. Not my style at all, and my breasts are quite visible through it. I blush slightly, and pull the blankets up to my shoulders. Connor seems to relax slightly.

"Where am I?" I ask.

"My home. I brought you here from Boston." Connor replies.

"Thank you." I say.

I hear an old man's voice coming from somewhere outside the room.

"Connor, is she awake yet?" He asks. His voice is gruff and stern, yet there is something comforting about it.

"Yes." Connor replies.

An old man enters the room. He has dark brown skin and white hair, and uses a cane to walk. His face is kind but stern looking.

"Clara, this is Achilles Davenport. Achilles, this is Clara Butterfield." Introduces Connor.

"Well, Clara, there are some clothes in the dresser. Come downstairs when you're ready." Achilles says. He hobbles out of the room with Connor following behind him. I laugh quietly; Connor seems quite put in his place around Achilles, like an arrogant puppy being barked at by a large dog. I get up off the bed and my side hurts, but I ignore it. The dresser is large, brown wood, a mirror above it. My face is clean and free of blood, and my cheek has a nasty gash across it. My hair is free of the braid I put it in, and it looks clean. Someone must have bathed me while I was unconscious, and I hope to god it was a woman. I open the dresser.

It's stocked with women's hunting clothes. My clothes are on the top, clean and washed. I pull them on and see my pack lying against the bed. I open it and everything is in there, with my knives from my waistcoat on top. I pick them up and put them in the pockets of my waistcoat. I close the pack and head downstairs. The pain in my side is starting to fade. When I reach the bottom of the stairs I see Connor and Achilles sitting in front of a fire, Achilles reading a book. I walk into the room.

"Ah, Clara." Says Achilles, looking up from his book. "How do you feel? Connor told me what happened." Achilles says with empathy.

I glare at Connor, then address Achilles. "I'm fine. That bastard got what he deserved and as far as I'm concerned his death has caused no sorrow."

Achilles chuckles. "I like this one. First girl you bring home and she's about as innocent as you." Achilles says to Connor. Connor glares at him and blushes, while I let show a small smile.

"Well, after a few days your side should be better, and you can go where you want." Achilles says.

"Thank you, Mr Davenport. But I do not want to impose, and I am no stranger to pain. If I could just take a small amount of food I could leave tonight." I say.

"You are no imposition, and I admire your hardiness. However, I must insist you stay the night so I can be sure your side will heal. And call me Achilles."

"Very well." I say with a small smile. I exit the room and walk out the door. The breeze feels nice on my skin, and the sun is warm on my face. The homestead is isolated, that much is obvious. There is a mill and stables, along with a barn out to my left, and the area is surrounded by forest. Just behind the stables is a cliff, and below that is a small bay. I can hear the waves crashing against the rock face. I walk over to the cliff, wanting to see more of the beauty.

It is a very long way down. The waves crash against the cliff face, spraying water up the rock. There is a boat docked at a port on the other side of the bay. I can see the name of the boat, _The Aquilla, _painted on the hull. It is a beautiful ship.

I decide to explore the forest. The trees are tall and straight, and the grass is a vibrant green. Spring is truly here. I walk around, listening to the birds and insects, when the recent events catch up with me. Being treated like I was with Robert, seeing Connor again, living somewhere in the wilderness, it's all too much. I sit down on a nearby rock and put my head in my hands, trying to hold myself together. I try to hold back the tears, but I can't. I let them fall, ashamed that I would be so weak that I would cry. The truth is, what Robert did to me changed me. I stand up and walk in a circle, running my hands through my hair. I'm not even sure why I've lost myself, but nothing makes sense right now.

I indulge myself for a while longer, crying until I've run out of tears, and I'm tired from the emotions I've lost control of. The sun is setting; did the time really pass that quickly? I dry my eyes, hoping to conceal the fact that I've just been crying. I'm lucky, because it's usually hard to tell if I've been crying. I learnt to conceal my emotions as soon as I learnt to talk, and my temper has gotten better since I was a child. I used to burst out at my mother and father, and it would only bring more pain. Now I hide it inside, and even though it still flares inside me, it's no longer an open flame. It's contained, and burns brightly within me, giving me power and strength when I need it. I like my flame.

I can see the homestead through the trees, Connor and Achilles standing in the living room. They are obviously having an arguement, and they haven't seen me yet. I don't want to intrude, especially since they've been so kind to me, so I wander around for another few minutes until they stop fighting. I walk inside the house, into the living room. Connor still looks angry and shoots a glare at Achilles every so often.

That night, after dinner, I go to bed. I search around for something to sleep in other than the one I was wearing earlier today. I eventually find one; thick material that is most definitely not see-through, though it is short. It cuts off above my knees, so I'll be sure to avoid any encounters with Achilles or Connor while I'm wearing it. I get into bed and sleep peacefully.

Until I am woken by a scraping noise, like wood against wood. It's not very loud, but I've always been a light sleeper. I get out of bed and pull my pants on underneath the nightgown, and I sneak downstairs. The stairs creak underneath Connor and Achilles, but I'm quite light so they stay silent for me. As I get downstairs, I hear the noise again. I immediately find the source of the noise; a panel of wood behind the stairway is...

Moving?

I run forward before it closes and I just manage to slip in between it and the wall. I stop just before I tumble down the flight of stairs before me. They're old and rickety. Much more creaky than the other staircase. I go halfway down, crouching behind the wall but I can see into this mysterious room. The floor is dirt, and the walls are plastered. There are various pictures dotted sparsely around the room, and in the centre is a wooden mannequin. Connor and Achilles are standing in the center of the room, arguing again. I can't help myself; I have to stay and see what the commotion is.

"Old man, I won't tell her!" Hisses Connor quietly.

"Boy, you're being a fool!" Growls Achilles.

"It will only get her killed!"

"No, leaving her in ignorance will get her killed. Besides, she's proven she can take care of herself."

"I will not put her in danger!"

I shift my position, and the stair creaks loudly. I wince, as I know there's no possibility it went unnoticed. Connor walks to the bottom of the staircase and sees me crouching there like a fool. I stand up and walk down to him.

"Connor, what's the matter?" I ask.

He glares at me, and as he towers over me, looking vicious, I am slightly afraid. I draw myself up, trying to seem bigger and failing, but I give Connor a glare back that's twice as strong. Connor tries to walk past me, but I grab his arm. He throws my hand off and storms upstairs. I hear the door slam.

"Don't worry, child. That boy has a temper to rival a lion's. He'll be angry for a while, but in the morning he'll feel guilty and apologise." Says Achilles with amusement in his eyes. He makes his way upstairs, and I look at the mannequin for a second. I notice on the floor there is some strange symbol, a triangular shape. I remember seeing the same symbol on Connor's armour. I run upstairs to Achilles.

"What did were you and Connor arguing about?" I ask him.

"I think you'd best ask him." Replies Achilles. I groan; this will be difficult. Connor is stubborn.

But I'm more stubborn.

"Goodnight." I say to Achilles. I go back upstairs and get into bed again. I know sleep will be hard to achieve, now that there is a mystery in my mind. I lie back onto the soft covers, and eventually the warmth and comfort lulls me back to sleep.

I wake up to a soft knock on my bedroom door. The sun is up, and it looks like early morning from my view outside. I get up off the bed and open the door. Connor is standing there.

"Connor. What is it?" I ask softly.

"May I come in?" He asks. I nod and open the door wider. He steps inside, standing in front of me awkwardly. I sit down on my bed.

"What is it?" I ask him.

Connor hesitates.

"Connor, tell me. I know you want to say something."

He sighs in a great big huff.

"I am an assassin." He says finally.

**Hey guys! As you might have noticed, I have had about 600 people so far read my story. That is a crazy amount of people, but I can't tell if you like it or not because you don't review! It would only take you typing "like" or "dislike" into the reviews section to let me know whether I should keep writing! I know you're probably thinking **_**someone else will do it. I don't need to.**_** But that's not true! I'm going to sound really cheesy here, but Your Opinion Matters To Me! I care what each and every one of you thinks of my story but if you don't review I don't know if you like it or not! And if I don't know whether people like it, I'll stop writing because I'm the sort of person who looks on the bad side of these things and I'll think **_**600 people read this, but none like it enough to type 4 letters.**_**  
Anyway, all I'm saying is REVIEW PLEASE! You can do it whether you're on an iPod, computer, whether you have an account with Fanfiction or not! Please review unless you want me to stop halfway through the story and you'll never get to know what happens to Connor and Clara. Please?  
Oh yeah and I like constructive criticism and if you have any good ideas for the plot, I'm always listening (or reading)!  
Love from JennaKobis**


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

"But how could nobody know? Wars can't be secret!" Clara exclaimed

"We don't fight with guns and cannons. We kill one another in secret." Connor explained again.

He had explained the war between the Templars and Assassins to Clara. She understood the details of it, but apparently not all of them.

Clara sighed. She rubbed her arms, and in the sunlight Connor could see several small scars on them. Her side was healing nicely. She was silent for a few minutes.

"I want to join." Clara said finally.

"What?" Exclaimed Connor. This was not the reaction he had expected.

"I want to help the Assassins." She said.

"No! You could get hurt!"

"What about you? You've gotten hurt!"

"I'm doing this for my people!"

"And I'm doing it because it's the right thing to do! Besides, I can already fight well, and I can climb. I could be very useful."

"This is ridiculous!"

"You can't tell me what to do! I've saved your life on more than one occasion! If it wasn't for me, you'd be dead!"

"I find it hard to believe that someone who couldn't defend themself from a drunkard suitor would claim-"

SMACK!

Clara's hand flew across Connor's face as hard as anything. It left a big, red mark there, and Connor's face looked very angry.

Clara was angrier.

"How dare you mention Robert?" She hissed furiously, dangerously. "I can't believe you!" She exclaimed. Her voice was soft, like she couldn't speak louder than a whisper she was so furious. "I am going to become an Assassin, and if you don't like it you can shove it up your-"

"What's all this commotion?" Achilles asked as he walked into Clara's bedroom. Clara glared at him so hard she was surprised Achilles didn't flinch away. "Connor, what happened to your cheek?"

He looked at Clara, who looked as furious as a wasp, and then back to Connor who looked angry and quite surprised. He chuckled.

For some reason, this only made Clara angrier and she grabbed her hunting pack, stormed out of the room, past the old man and outside. She drew out her bow from her pack and strung it, not really sure what she was trying to do. When she was still living in Boston, she would go hunting whenever she became frustrated, so she supposed she would do that. She walked through the woods, but ran after she became restless. Once again, she remembered how Connor had run through the trees, just before they were captured by the British. She placed her pack on the ground and slung her bow across her back, then made her way up into one of the trees. She leapt from her branch to another tree; it was very similar to climbing buildings, and Clara soon became quite proficient at it. She saw a doe, grazing at a bush. She strung her bow and shot it, the arrow going straight through the doe's skull. It fell to the ground.

Clara smiled and jumped down through the trees. She landed softly on the grass, rolling to absorb the impact. She pulled the arrow out from the doe's head and cleaned it on the grass. She pulled her pack onto her back, then approached the deer's carcass. She heaved it up onto her shoulders, and from there it was a relatively easy walk back to the homestead. She walked in the front door, into the kitchen and dumped the doe onto the kitchen table. Achilles walked into the room, and was just about to say something when Clara plunged the knife deep into the doe's body, beginning to skin it; perhaps too deep, but Clara didn't care. Achilles promptly left the room after that.

That night they ate Clara's kill for dinner. Connor was still angry, as was Clara, and they ate in stony silence. After dinner, Connor left the house, and Achilles went into the living room. Clara followed him soon after. She saw him looking at a portrait on the wall. It had a young man, a young woman and a small child in it. Clara recognised Achilles as the young man.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't want to interrupt." Clara said.

"No, no, don't worry." He assured Clara.

"Who are they?" Clara asked, motioning towards the painting.

"My wife and son." Replied Achilles.

"Where are they now?"

Achilles' expression changed.

"Oh." Clara said.

"Their names were Abigail and Connor." Achilles said. "You remind me of my wife. She was brave, too."

"I'm not brave. I just do what has to be done." Clara said.

"That _is _brave." Achilles replied.

Clara sighed. "Connor told me about the Assassins." She said. "And I want to help. I want to join."

"Yes, he told me about that." Achilles chuckled.

"Will you train me?" Clara asked, hopeful.

"No! I trained Connor, and look what it got me! A few extra grey hairs."

"I'm a good student! I learn fast, and I can already handle most weapons well. I can climb trees and buildings, and I could be an advantage!" Exclaimed Clara. "Men are foolish. They think that just because a woman smiles it means they are wanting more. I could use that to our advantage, I did it before! I escaped from the British that way! People think that just because I'm a woman it means that I faint at the sight of blood, or don't like to get wet. I can _use _that."

Achilles stood there for several seconds, mulling it over.

"I won't train you." He said.

"Why not?" Asked Clara, getting frustrated.

"I won't train you." Achilles repeated. "But Connor will."

Clara stopped, then smiled with an evil delight.

"I will what?" Connor asked from the front door. He walked into the living room.

"You will train me to become an Assassin." Said Clara with a smug smile.

Connor looked outraged. "Why do you insist on doing this? The only thing that can come of it is death!"

"Then so be it!" Clara shouted. "I've seen so many bad things happen, all because of Templars. I want to fight back, and if I die making the world a better place," Clara got up in Connor's face, glaring at him. "so be it." She said.

Connor tried to say something but couldn't.

"I need to do this, Connor. I can take care of myself. I have skills, I can fight, and I can help." Clara said to him in a calmer tone.

Achilles nodded to Connor.

Connor sighed in a great, big, annoyed huff.

"You start tomorrow." He said. He walked upstairs, and Clara smiled broadly.

Achilles inspected her side again, which had almost healed. Her cheek was another matter. It was healing slower than her side for some reason, but Achilles was confident it would heal soon enough.

Clara went to bed, pleased she had gotten what she wanted. It would be a good opportunity to find out more information about Connor and the Assassins. Her brother, James, jumped into her thoughts and suddenly worry clouded her mind.

**Why is she worried? What's happened?  
Anyway, I wanted to say something about my reviews. I know I may be a bit of a review whore, and I accept that, but I honestly don't know if I should keep writing. I have 6 people saying they like my story and apart from that, no one has left a review or anything. Maybe I'm complaining too much, and feel free to have a complete sh*t-storm in the reviews, but if you don't **_**communicate**_**, (magic word in life) I don't know if this is worth my time. I'm not going to do that thing where people go "no more chapters until I get 10 reviews" but I need to know whether people like my story or not! I have better things to do, but I enjoy writing, and I like it when people enjoy my writing.  
SO PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEEAASEE!  
Leave a review to keep my head from exploding.  
Because if my head exploded I couldn't write. That would suck.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Hello! First, this chapter is a bit shorter than usual, but the next one's a lot longer to make up for it!  
Second, I got about two more reviews and that was enough to inspire me to keep writing (but don't stop the reviews!)  
Third, I just realized how annoying my last note sounded about complaining for reviews, so I apologise (please don't kill me)  
And fourth... I dunno, there's not really a fourth. It just seemed like a good number to make...  
Anyways, ENJOY AND REVIEW!**

CHAPTER 10

I wake up to a loud knock on my door. A rude awakening, and I think Connor might still be annoyed from last night.

"Clara! Get your weapons and meet me at the barn!" He says loudly. I roll out of bed and get dressed in my usual black pants, white shirt and black waistcoat. I bring my bow, arrows and knives, and exit my room.

When I reach the barn, I enter it to find it deserted.

"Connor?" I call. I hear a rustling behind me, and I turn around to see Connor lunge at me. He wrestles me to the ground and holds his hidden blade to my throat.

"You must always be alert for enemies. If I was an enemy, I wouldn't stop at your throat. You'd be dead by now." He says. He gets up, offering me a hand to get up. I take it, and he pulls me up like I weigh nothing.

"You can fight, I know that, but you won't always be fighting guards. The Templars are dangerous and deadly." Connor warns. "Take off your weapons."

I place them in the corner, and Connor advances on me again. He attacks with weapons and hands, and I manage to dodge most of his attacks. Suddenly my cheek feels wet. I touch my hand to it, and when I pull it away there's blood on it.

"Clara? Are you alright?" Asks Connor, worried. Any annoyance he felt towards me has suddenly disappeared, replaced by concern.

"Yes, I think so." I reply. We try to continue the fight, but my cheek is bleeding too much. Connor jogs off towards the stables and I follow him. Connor reaches into his saddle on the wall, pulling out his water canteen and several strips of linen.

He walks into the sun, his reddish brown skin seeming to glow in the sunlight. He sits down and motions for me to do the same. We sit cross-legged, facing each other, as Connor cleans my cheek. His usually emotionless face is now concerned and concentrating.

"I'm sorry." He finally says, sucking up his pride.

"Why?" I ask.

"I've been rude and angry. I have no right to be. You are right, I cannot tell you what to do and you are skilled."

"Connor, I've been rude too." I say. "I shouted at you. You are not the only one to blame." I wince as Connor wipes my cheek with the linen. He draws his hand back.

"Don't worry." I say, motioning for him to continue. When he finishes, we continue fighting until we are both tired and sore.

I train for months. My body develops hard muscles, but my arms and legs look thin. At first glance, I look small and weak, which is a mistake. I learn lessons of the mind from Achilles and Connor, while only Connor trains my body. I train with every weapon imaginable, except for the hidden blades. They are reserved for Assassins only. My hearing and eyesight notice things I didn't notice before, and they become sharp as razors. My hands become hard and calloused from wear, and I gain several new scars from mistakes or training.

Spring continues to change the landscape. The grass grows green, the trees gain leaves, wildflowers dot the ground.

I get to know Connor, as well.

He's fiercely loyal, to his friends and his people. He will do anything to protect them, and loves the land. He has an incredible bond with nature, and doesn't like to kill. He's naive. He thinks killing isn't needed to take down the Templars. He thinks we might be able to resolve our differences with them, maybe make peace.

He doesn't like sweet things, and when he runs he reminds me of a wolf. When he fights, he looks like a bear, deadly but beautiful and incredibly intimidating. He is strong and brave, and determined, and the thing that fuels his mission is a man called Charles Lee. He burned down Connor's village when Connor was a small boy. Connor sometimes has nightmares and a few times I heard him shout "Ita!". I don't know what it means, and I haven't the courage to ask him. It would be too embarrassing. His real name is Ratonhnhaké:ton; Connor is a name Achilles gave to him. He thinks of Achilles as a father figure; he hasn't told me directly, but I can tell.

Connor and I become friends. Good friends. We watch out for each other. I haven't left the homestead since Connor brought me here, and I'm getting restless. I want to put my new skills to use!

One day I wake up and I immediately know something's wrong. The sun is too high up in the sky, I should have woken up hours ago. I get dressed and take my weapons downstairs, my knives in my pockets, my bow and arrows slung across my back. I strain my ears for any noise, my feet padding silently across the wooden floor. Suddenly I hear a noise behind me, but I don't react. I walk into the living room and pretend to look around. I approach the fire, then as quick as a cat I grab one of the pokers, swing it around and hit my follower in the stomach. He doubles over in pain, and I hit him over the head. Then I realize who I've just attacked.

Connor.

"Oh, no!" I say. "You shouldn't sneak up on me like that, Ratonhnhaké:ton. This is your own fault."

He looks up at me and nods, and I can't help but laugh. Achilles appears from around the corner and sees me holding the fire poker, Connor clutching his stomach. He starts to chuckle, and motions for me to follow him. Connor recovers, and we follow Achilles into the basement. On the usually bare mannequin is a white uniform, made for the female form.

"I had it made for you." Achilles says. Connor walks out and takes a box from underneath it, opens it, and reveals two hidden blades.

I put on the uniform in another room of the basement. There is a mirror, and as I look at myself I no longer see Clara Butterfield. I see a dangerous woman. Someone deadly, lethal. My eyes burn with a ferocity I've never seen before. I no longer look like the perfect British girl I never really was, and I don't look like a T-word.

I look like an Assassin.

And guilt claims my heart.

**Say what?  
Sorry, I felt like writing that! Anyway, leave a review if you enjoyed! Follow me to read more about Connor and Clara, and I'll see you in the next chapter!**


	11. Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

My hidden blades clash against Connor's sword as we spar near the barn. He has been training me for a few days on how to properly use my blades, and even though I've improved, I'm still not very good at using them. Connor is encouraging, but not in a very nice way.

"You have improved, but there is still a lot of room for improvement. You wouldn't last a second in real battle." He says.

"You could have stopped at 'You have improved.'" I mutter under my breath. I forget about Connor's excellent hearing, and he shoots a glance at me. Slightly amused.

He never really shows any emotion. He occasionally smiles, but apart from those rare instances he stays unsmiling and serious.

Connor raises his sword again, and we spar for around an hour more before we are both tired, so we head back to the homestead. The sun is warm on my back.

As soon as Connor and I enter the house, Achilles approaches us.

"I have something to show you. Follow me." He says. Achilles leads us down into the basement and takes out some sort of mechanical object. He passes the mechanism to Connor who fiddles with it experimentally. I stare at it, trying to figure out a way to use this strange weapon.

"What is it?" Connor asked.

"A Sheng Biao or rope dart, if you prefer. One of the many plans given to us by Shao Jun to—"

Connor interrupts Achilles explanation by accidently letting go of the rope dart he's swinging, getting lodged several inches into a wooden beam. Achilles gives Connor a serious look.

"Sorry." Connor says.

I laugh, and take it from his hands. I aim the rope dart at the mannequin in the center of the room, and the rope dart lodges itself firmly in the mannequin's head. Pure luck, or course, but I I'm not going to say that. I hear a knock at the door so I walk upstairs to get it.

"Is Ratonhnhaké:ton there?" Asks a man wearily as I open the door. He is dressed in full Native clothing, his hair braided.

"Yes, he is." I say. I look behind me, where Connor is watching the door. I motion him with my hand to come forward.

"Kanen'tó:kon?" He asks as he sees the man.

The man nods at his question. "Yes, my friend." Connor steps outside and shows a small smile, which is rare for him.

"What brings you here?" His smile fades and his face turns more serious. "Is the village alright?"

"Men came, claiming we have to leave. They said that the land was being sold and that the Confederacy had consented. We sent an envoy, but they would not listen." Kanen'tó:kon explains.

"You must refuse!" Connor exclaims fiercely.

"We cannot oppose the sachem." He admits sadly. "But you are right as well, we cannot give up our home."

"Do you have a name? Do you know who is responsible?"

"He is called William Johnson."

"Where is Johnson now?"

"In Boston, making preparations for the sale."

"Sale? This is theft!"

"Connor, take care. These men are powerful." Achilles warns, having appeared next to me.

"What would you have me do?" Connor asks, raising his voice. "I made a promise to my people!"

"If you insist upon this course of action, seek out Sam Adams in Boston. He'll be able to help." Achilles says.

Irritation flits across Connor's face for a moment, but disappears quickly. Kanen'tó:kon hands Connor his hatchet, and Connor walks over to one of the columns holding the balcony upright. He slams the hatchet into the column, and I jump at the sudden action.

"What have you done?" Achilles exclaims.

"When my people go to war, a hatchet is buried in a post to signify its start. When the threat is ended, the hatchet is removed." Connor replies calmly.

Connor jogs towards the stables, and I follow him.

"You could have used a tree!" Exclaims Achilles as we run. I laugh under my breath.

"I ride for Boston. Kanen'tó:kon, please look after the village until I am back." Connor says.

"Of course, my friend." Replies the Native.

Connor and I approach the stables.

"You must stay here." Connor tells me.

I laugh, even though nothing is actually funny. "No. I am coming. You're going to need help, and I'm an Assassin now. I can do what I want, Ratonhnhaké:ton. " I retaliate.

Connor opens his mouth to argue, but then does something unexpected. "You're right. You are an Assassin now. Follow me." He says. I smile as Connor mounts his horse, and I do the same. We set off at a gallop towards Boston, and my heart flutters with excitement. I have been waiting for weeks to put my new skills to use.

We ride for most of the day, stopping when it turns dark. The moon above us shines brightly, casting shadows upon the ground. Connor collects wood for a fire while I tie the horses up, giving them half an apple each for their hard work. I recognize Connor's horse as the one I saw when I first met him.

Soon, the fire shines brightly. Connor and I sit around it, and I remember the first time we met. I laugh quietly at the memory. We sit at the fire for a while, then I roll onto my side to sleep, and Connor does the same.

I wake up to a sunny forest. The birds are singing, and Connor sleeps quietly next to me. I stand up and brush myself down. Connor wakes up, and we continue on our way. The day passes slowly, but soon enough we arrive in Boston. I remember the last time I was here, that dreadful memory. I shudder.

We tie our horses just outside Boston and head into the city. We make our way through the streets, asking about Sam Adam's whereabouts. We soon find him, huddled in a group with several men talking in serious tones. He looks up and sees Connor and I walking towards him.

"Ah, Connor. Hello again." He says. "And who might this be?" He asks, gesturing towards me.

"I'm Clara Butterfield." I say, stepping forward. He shakes my hand and smiles.

"So , what brings you to Boston?" He asks.

"You." Connor replies, looking back at the other men.

"If you would excuse us, gentlemen." Sam says, indicating for us to follow him. "Thank you. That conversation was about to turn unpleasant. Now, what can I do for you?" He asks.

"We were hoping you could help us locate William Johnson." Connor says.

"Of course. I'm headed to a meeting with some men who should be able to help. Why don't you come along?" Sam invites as we walk along.

I lok around for a while. Eventually Sam speaks.

"It's good to see the people taking a stand against injustice…" He comments.

"Says the man who owns a slave." Retorts Connor.

Adams lets out a small laugh. "Who, Surry? I practise what I preach, my friend. She's not a slave, but a freed woman…at least on paper. Men's minds are not so easily turned. It's a tragedy that for all our progress, still we cling to such barbarism."

"Then speak out against it." Connor states simply.

"We must focus on defending our rights. When this is done, we'll have the luxury of addressing these other matters." Adams replies.

"You speak as though your condition is equal to that of the slaves. It is not."

"Tell that to my neighbour- who was compelled to quarter British troops. Or to my friend whose store was closed because he displeased the Crown. The people here are no freer than Surry." Adams says matter-of-factly.

We then come across a group of guards outside a house. They shout up to a window, something about owning the house. A man appears out of it, and shouts back that it's his house. He leaves the window and comes back with a chamber pot, dumping the contents on the guards. The guards smash the windows and at the same time the owner comes barreling out of his house, tackling one of the guards.

"I trust the mounting evidence is proof enough." Sam says to us.

"Continue on. I shall meet you at your destination." Connor says to us. I roll my eyes, wanting to participate, but I get the feeling I'll have more than my fair share of action later, so I don't argue. Connor runs off to the fight, and Sam and I continue on.

"How did you come to meet our mutual friend?" Asks Sam.

I don't want to tell this man the real reasons, so I lie.

"I was in Boston when some guards started to harass me. I fought most of them off but I wouldn't have survived if Connor hadn't intervened." I lie.

"You fought off guards?" He asks, surprised. "Redcoats?"

I nod.

"That Connor is a brave man. Smart, too, especially for a Native." Sam says.

I stop in my tracks and glare at Sam. He stops too.

"What is it?" He asks.

"What do you mean, for a Native?" I ask, angry. I step up right close to Adams. "That man is a brave, kind person. It doesn't matter whether he is Native or British or anything else. Natives are no less intelligent than Colonists; and don't you forget that." I growl.

Despite my small size, Adams seems slightly intimidated by me. Inside I smile, but on the outside I keep up the angry face. Adams steps back.

"I apologise." He says.

I nod, and we continue towards our destination.

"Forgive me if this is insulting to you, but there is a certain couple staring at you." Sam says. I spin around and my gut feels like it's somewhere around my feet; my parents are staring at me in disbelief. They must have recognized me, even with my new outfit.

"Keep walking." I say to Sam. He looks slightly alarmed but follows my instructions, and we reach our destination. It's a small tavern, and inside sits a man at a table.

"Hello, my name is William Molineux." He says, getting up and kissing my hand. I don't appreciate the gesture, but I have to keep calm so I don't make this into another fight.

"Hello, I'm Clara Butterfield." I reply. I smile the fake smile.

At that moment a man enters the tavern, the same one who was shouting at the guards. I think I'll like him. He walks into the kitchen, looking triumphant, and it's obvious he won. Connor enters the tavern as well, and the man re-enters the room.

"Connor!" Samuel greets loudly. "I'd like you to meet some like-minded friends. The owner of this fine establishment, William Molineux," He gestures to William. "And the manager and chef of his newest venue, Stephane Chapeau." He says, looking at the shouting man.

"Ah, Connor and I just had a ball with some redcoats enforcing some taxmen outside my home!" Stephane exclaims.

"The collectors grow bolder and more forceful. Something we must address, Samuel." William says.

"Then let us raise a banner." Samuel suggests to the group. "Something to let the people know that they are not alone. The docks are an angry place of late, protestors picketing the latest shipments of British tea. The eyes of the city are upon that stage…"

"A Bostonian without his tea is a dangerous beast!" Stephane interrupts. I laugh; definitely liking Stephane.

Sam raises an eyebrow and William begins to speak. "William Johnson is smuggling the tea off the ships- one of his mean tried to sell me this." He holds up the sample of the tea and places it on the table. "A sample of what I refused, but it's from those ships- no mistaking the stamp. He's charging a King's ransom, must be he's making a mint off those who buy it."

"Where is he now?" I ask.

"I've never met the man." William admits.

Sam turns towards Connor. "May I ask why you seek him, Connor?"

"He intends to purchase the land upon which my village stands without the consent of my people." Connor says calmly, but I can hear the trace amounts of anger in his voice.

"No doubt the revenue from his little smuggling endeavour is financing the acquisition. A tax enforced on tea grants a boon to smugglers. I'll wager the same men who levy the taxes are selling the tea. A stage requires a spectacle and I may know the play. Connor and Clara, head back to the docks and see to the destruction of the tea. If you should need us return here." Sam tells us.

We exit the building. I pull up my hood to conceal myself from my parents, if they're still there. a taxman walks past us, holding a crate, so Connor "accidently" bumps into him and causes the crate to crash to the ground.

"Sorry." He apologises.

"Aw, come on mate." Replies the taxman, walking away looking irritated. He walks past me and "accidently" walks into my shoulder.

"Hey!" I exclaim, annoyed. He runs off, so I let him go.


	12. Chapter 12

**Two chapters in one day! What?  
ANYWAY I just couldn't wait to publish this chapter I'm SOOOO excited about it! I'm quite proud of myself! Anyway, review PLEASE and (I don't know if you have this outside Australia) It's a long weekend coming up for us Aussies so I might not be publishing this weekend because I might be going away. If enough people say they want me to publish, I'll make time for it, but if no one does I won't bother and you will get the next chapter sometime in the near future! So let me know, and I really hope you like this chapter!  
Love from JennaKobis ;)**

CHAPTER 12

"Clara! Over there!" Shouts Connor. He points to the other side of the ships, where a platoon of redcoats has just arrived. I leap from the boat onto the pier, flicking out my hidden blades as I go. The guards surround me and one attacks. I dodge his sword and, nimble as a cat, I kick it aside and jump on the guard, stabbing him in the throat. He dies quickly, his blood staining my uniform. The night sky looms above me.

The guards attack again, two at a time. I duck under their swords and dispatch of them as well. I'm completely focused on my targets, each sword that comes is just a stick in the way. Soon, all the guards lie at my feet, and I'm barely out of breath. The same cannot be said for Connor.

He's on the other side of the ship. He's obviously tired, and has a much bigger group of redcoats to deal with. I run across the first boat and leap onto the second, swinging from a rope. I continue running like I didn't stop, and I reach Connor within seconds. We eventually kill all the guards, tired, but we can't stop, because there is still tea to be dumped, along with defending Stephane and William, and killing all the guards that try to stop us. I can see another, smaller group coming towards me.

"Connor, go!" I exclaim. He runs onto the boat and starts tossing crates, knowing I can take care of these redcoats. They see me, a woman in their way, and they start laughing, so I sprint towards them and kill who seems to be the leader. They stop laughing, and another fight begins. I dodge one guard's attack, but another attacks me from behind and makes a deep gash on my upper arm. I gasp in pain as hot blood trickles down my arm, onto my uniform, but I don't stop. As soon as all the redcoats are dead I run onto the ship again and keep dumping crates, my arm burning.

"This is the last of them!" Someone shouts.

_Thank god. _I think. I don't think I can remain standing for much longer, and my arm feels numb. Blood loss. Connor dumps one of the last crates overboard, and everyone cheers, except for Connor and I. We head back onto the pier, Connor holding a crate, when I see a group of three men standing away from us. I recognize one of them as Charles Lee, and I nearly run after him when I realize that would get both Connor and me killed. Connor makes a show of dropping his crate into the water, so they can all see, and then he walks off. I follow him, and we reach an inn where we can sleep tonight. Connor pays the owner, and as soon as we reach our room I let out a big, tired sigh. My arm suddenly twinges, and I gasp, clamping a hand over the wound. It's bled all over my uniform. Connor sees it.

"Clara!" He exclaims. I take off the top of my uniform, leaving the white shirt underneath on my body. Connor gets the sheet from the bed and rips two strips of fabric off it. He ties them around my arm, and then I realize something.

"There's only one bed." I say.

"You take it." Connor replies.

I'm not in the mood to argue, so I simply grab the pillow off it and place it on the floor next to the bed.

"Clara, get on the bed. You're injured." He says.

"No, you take the bed. I'm actually quite comfortable." I reply.

"Clara…"

"Fine. We'll share." I say, thinking this would make him uncomfortable. Surprisingly, he stays silent for a few seconds before nodding and sitting down on the bed. I get up, putting the pillow back on the bed, and we both lie down. It's not uncomfortable, or awkward, or even romantic. We're just two friends sharing a bed.

In the morning I wake up to a loud tapping on my window. There's a man there, and I know it's time. I quietly get out of the bed, leaving Connor sleeping peacefully. I open the window, climbing out into the night. I shut the window and follow the man to one of the many back gardens that are located around Boston. I look down from the roof, scanning the scene.

There are around ten people, standing in a group in the center of the garden. I recognize two of them as my parents, and a third as Charles Lee. I never really liked Charles, but now I look at him with hate and disgust.  
I should be able to escape this fairly easily, if need be. I climb down from the roof and approach the group.

"What do you want?" I ask as I approach them.

"Oh, my darling. How are you?" Asks my mother. "Where have you been?"

I laugh. "Really? You call me "darling" after seventeen years of abuse? And I like how you were _so _subtle about the whole wanting to know where I've been thing." I say sarcastically. "Drop the act, and just tell me what you want, you bitch."

My father looks as if he's about to murder me, but Mother puts a restraining arm on his hand and he steps back.

"Very well, then." Charles says as he steps forward. "When you joined the Templars, you swore to uphold our principles, our secrets. Now you're an Assassin."

"I didn't join." I say. "You forced me to. Don't make it seem like it was my decision."

"When you joined the Assassins, you broke your word. Now, if you want to live, you're going to have to do something for us." Charles says.

I don't like where this is going, but I have to ask. "What do you want?"

"It's very simple. All you have to do is kill the savage." Charles smiles.

I gasp. "No." I say firmly.

Charles laughs mockingly. "Do you really think you have a choice? If you don't kill him, you die."

"Then kill me." I say. I'm prepared to die for him.

"Oh, we have a brave one here." Charles says. "Well, you appear to value other's lives more than your own, so maybe this will help; bring her out!" Charles calls.

From behind a fence, two men emerge, forcing a thin, unhealthy looking woman forwards as well. She is skin and bones, and her hair hangs in dirty strands around her face. Her face looks like a ghost's, but there is something familiar about her. Then my mouth drops.

It's Ruth.

"You bastards!" I scream. "What have you done?" I try to run forwards to Ruth, but two of the Templars stop me.

"Ruth is one of four lives at stake. Your brother, James, and his wife just had a child. A baby boy, named Theodore. You visited them in New York a while ago. If you don't kill Connor, the three of them, and Ruth, will be killed." Charles says.

I stare at Ruth desperately, wanting to run to her and comfort her, but I can't.

"No." I say weakly.

"Maybe a demonstration is in order." Charles says, walking towards Ruth, knife in hand.

"Stop!" I shout. Charles keeps walking. I try to run and catch him, but two of the Templars grab me and hold my shoulders, preventing me from moving. Charles continues onwards to Ruth and crouches in front of her. He holds up the knife and I begin to scream nonsense, begging for him to stop.

He doesn't listen, and his knife is plunged deep into Ruth's chest.

"NO!" I scream, tears streaming down my face. The Templars let go of me, and I sprint towards Ruth. Charles stands just as I reach Ruth.

"You have one week." He says.

The Templars exit the garden, leaving me alone with Ruth, who still breathes her last shuddering breaths.

"Ruth?" I ask quietly, tears dropping onto her chest.

"Oh, dear child." She says, gazing into my eyes.

"Ruth. I love you." I whisper, wiping my eyes.

"I love you too. Be strong, Clara." She says. I can barely hear her speak.

"Don't go." I beg.

"I love you, child." She says.

And with that her eyes take on a strange emptiness.

"Ruth?" I ask, pleading for her not to be dead. "Ruth, wake up." I cry. The tears flow down my cheeks, onto Ruth's face, and I sit back, onto the grass. I put my head between my knees and wrap my arms around my legs, crying until my eyes feel dry and I'm exhausted from the emotions I've felt tonight.

I feel the strongest sense of hate. At the Templars. At myself. At no one coming to help, even when they heard my screams.

And at Connor.

Because if it wasn't for him, Ruth would still be alive. James and his family wouldn't be in danger, and I wouldn't have to feel this way. Charles said I have a week to kill him.

I'll do it in a day.

Because it's all Connor's fault. He is the reason Ruth is dead.

And he will pay.

Connor ran along the rooftops, back to the inn where he and Clara were staying. He had left after Charles said Clara was a Templar; he hadn't heard anything else. Usually he would listen in on the whole meeting but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He had trusted Clara, called her a friend, but she had betrayed him. She was a Templar, and was most likely feeding information about him to the Templars. She was a traitor to the Assassins. Connor knew, deep in his heart, what he had to do. Even though Clara had betrayed him, he still felt a deep guilt and sadness about what he was going to do.

Clara had to die.


	13. My computer is broken!

**Hello readers! I just wanted to let you know that when I got back from my holiday my computer had decided to have a nervous breakdown and it is now refusing to work. I took it to the shop and the guy said it would be about a week until my computer could be picked up, so unless I can borrow a friend's laptop or something (all my stuff's on a USB) it'll be hard to publish. I will probably only publish one or two chapters this week, but I just wanted to let you know why! I'm just going to give you a sneak preview of the next chapter, so enjoy!**

* * *

Connor arrived at the homestead with Clara. She was still breathing, just, and unless he could get her to Achilles soon he knew she would die. And that was something Connor couldn't bear to think of.

"Achilles!" Roared Connor as he lifted Clara off the horse. Connor ran up to the house with Clara in his arms and Achilles appeared at the door.

"What happened?" Asked Achilles urgently.

"She was shot by a redcoat." Answered Connor quickly as they rushed into the kitchen. Achilles swept everything off the kitchen table and Connor laid Clara on the table. Achilles opened Clara's uniform and saw the gunshot wound.

"I may be able to save her. I'm not sure yet. Leave me to try, but come immediately if I call." Achilles said urgently.

My chest burns, as if it's on fire. Even though I should be screaming in pain, I can only manage one word.

"Connor!" I exclaim as my chest sends a surge of fire up my spine.

I hear running footsteps and he bursts in through the door. Through the pain, I smile, stupidly glad to see him. Connor rushes over to my bed and as my chest burns again I grab his hand, squeezing it hard as my chest sends more fire upwards.

* * *

**Well, what did you think? Let me know in the reviews, and I always appreciate and love reading your reviews! If you like it that much, follow or favorite!  
Love from JennaKobis!**


	14. Chapter 14

CHAPTER 13

I run along the rooftops, hoping Connor isn't up yet. I am so angry, and so grief-stricken that nothing makes sense, yet everything is clear. I can't explain it; all I know is that I want Connor to die for what he's done to me.

When I reach the inn, I climb in the window and look at Connor sleeping. I could kill him now, but something isn't right. He should die differently. I'll wait until we're back at the homestead; Achilles should be near when it happens. He doesn't deserve to die, but he did play a role in all of this.

I don't want to share the same bed as the savage, but I know I have to if I want to pull this off. I get into the bed and I lie there for hours. I can't sleep, but eventually I fall into unconsciousness.

_I dream of Ruth. She's plump and happy, red cheeked as usual. She walks over to me and hugs me._

"_Kill him." She says, handing a knife to me. Suddenly Connor is in a bed next to us, and I take the dagger from Ruth. I stand over Connor with the knife in hand, and as I look over him I laugh._

I hit the floor, hard. I must have rolled out of bed. Connor sleeps on, thankfully, but the dream still flares within my mind. I know I have to kill him now, and I don't feel happy about it. I don't feel sad. It's just another kill.

I take out my old knives from before I was an Assassin. Somehow it seems fitting that they should be the weapons to kill Connor. I stand over him and I raise the knife to my cheek level. They glint in the morning sunlight, which is just beginning to rise. I remember the homestead; how the sun would rise over the cliff, sending streaks of light across the bay. Then something clicks inside my head. A realization.

I can't do it. I can't kill Connor.

I drop the knives to my sides.

Connor has saved my life, multiple times. He's saved so many other people's lives, as well. He is brave and loyal and I realize that this isn't his fault. How could I think it was? He had nothing to do with Ruth's death. It was one man, and one man alone, who killed Ruth. It was Charles Lee.

Tears run down my cheeks again. I drop the knives onto the floor, clattering loudly, and I close my eyes.

Suddenly I'm thrown against the wall.

My eyes snap open and as I land hard on the ground Connor crouches over me, fury bright in his eyes. He holds a hidden blade to my throat.

"Connor!" I yell. "What are you doing?"

"You are a Templar!" He shouts back. "You have betrayed me!"

"Connor, you don't know the whole story! Get off me!"

"No!"

I stop struggling against him. I lie still and take deep breaths, trying to calm down.

"Ratonhnhaké:ton." I say in a softer voice.

"Don't call me that!" Connor snarls.

"Please, listen. I am a Templar. It was not my choice. I was forced." I say.

He looks taken aback. "By who?" He asks suspiciously.

"Charles Lee. My parents. They killed Ruth." I say, my eyes itching, and I know I'm about to cry. I have to hold out until I can explain to Connor.

"I heard you at the Templar meeting." He says.

"You didn't hear all of it. They ordered me to kill you. I was going to, because I thought it was your fault Ruth was dead, but I know it isn't. Please, you have to believe me. I am not a Templar. I'm an Assassin." I say. "They threatened my brother, his family as well."

Connor lifts the blade off my neck, but keeps me on the floor.

"I believe you. But you have betrayed me. I trusted you, but you betrayed me and now I can't trust you. We will go back to Achilles and he will decide what to do." Connor says.

"Connor…" I say, not sure what to say next.

He gets off me and I stand up. Connor not trusting me… It's almost as bad as losing Ruth.

"Is there any possibility we will be friends again? Will you ever trust me?" I ask, doubtful. But I have to know.

Connor sighs.

"No." He says. He leaves the room and I stand there, shocked. It hurts. My chest hurts with the grief of Ruth's death and now Connor. He has been my only friend, my mentor. And now he's gone too.

I run out of the room. Connor is waiting downstairs, and we exit the inn silently. We walk to where our horses were and we spend the day riding in silence. As night falls, we stop and Connor goes to collect firewood again, but when he returns we don't speak. He builds a fire and we go to sleep almost immediately. I fall asleep a little while after Connor, but I hold my emotions in. As from this moment, my emotions will stay inside.

That is not going to happen.

I wake up to hear a rustling behind me. I stay completely still, and then I hear a gun click. I can see Connor is awake too, but only I can tell.

Suddenly he springs up and I do the same. I can see a platoon of redcoats surrounding us, and as we move chaos erupts. I dodge attacks and take care of some of the redcoats. Connor is in trouble, and I run over to help him. We fight together, but it doesn't have the same feeling of comraderie. Together, we kill the redcoats, and I turn to Connor, not really sure what I'll find. On the ground I see a redcoat who I thought was dead. He raises his gun and points it at Connor. I run towards Connor and just as the redcoat is about to fire I jump on Connor, both of us landing hard on the ground. I hear the gunshot and then Connor jumps up, leaping onto the redcoat and killing him. I stand up and suddenly I feel… odd. I look down to see a bloodstain spreading rapidly across the lower half of my chest. Connor hasn't seen it yet.

"Are you alright?" He asks, still not looking. I can't answer, and he looks over at me to see why I haven't answered. He sees the blood, and I sway. I fall to the ground and Connor catches me just before my head hits the ground.

"Clara?" He asks, fearful and worried.

I struggle to breathe, but for some reason I feel the need to make a joke.

"Friends?" I ask softly, even though it hurts. I gasp as a sudden pain shoots through my chest.

"Friends." He agrees, nodding. He grabs my hands and holds them to his chest, and I think I see his eyes watering. He leans forward and presses his forehead to mine.

Connor picks me up and just as my vision fades my head rests against Connor's chest. His heart is drumming fast, faster than it would beat from a simple fight. He's worried, scared. And it comforts me.

Connor arrived at the homestead with Clara. She was still breathing, just, and unless he could get her to Achilles soon he knew she would die. And that was something Connor couldn't bear to think of.

"Achilles!" Roared Connor as he lifted Clara off the horse. Connor ran up to the house with Clara in his arms and Achilles appeared at the door.

"What happened?" Asked Achilles urgently.

"She was shot by a redcoat." Answered Connor quickly as they rushed into the kitchen. Achilles swept everything off the kitchen table and Connor laid Clara on the table. Achilles opened Clara's uniform and saw the gunshot wound.

"I may be able to save her. I'm not sure yet. Leave me to try, but come immediately if I call." Achilles said urgently.

Connor nodded and walked out of the kitchen. He sat in the living room and stared at the fire that was burning in the fireplace. He sat in the same chair for hours, not knowing what was happening in the kitchen. When the sun was beginning to set, Connor heard Achilles' footsteps approach him from the kitchen. Connor turned around, saw Achilles' face and leapt up from the couch, sprinting into the kitchen and feeling sick. He ran into the kitchen, and as he saw Clara's body, he approached her with his chest feeling tight. She looked like death; pale and still. Connor remembered the night at the inn, where he had intended to kill her. He had been sure she was a Templar, but recent events had changed his mind. Clara would not have sacrificed herself if she was a Templar; she would have let him be killed.

Connor took Clara's hand in his and held it. It was cold. He picked her up gently and took her upstairs, into her room. Achilles had closed Clara's uniform again, and Connor laid her on her bed softly.

As the hours passed, Clara's breathing became less labored. Her eyelids fluttered but never opened. Connor sat himself in a chair beside her bed, unwilling to leave her side.

My chest burns, as if it's on fire. Even though I should be screaming in pain, I can only manage one word.

"Connor!" I exclaim as my chest sends a surge of fire up my spine.

I look to my side and see Connor sitting on a chair, half asleep. Through the pain, I smile, stupidly glad to see him. Connor leans forward, looking into my eyes and as my chest burns again I grab his hand, squeezing it hard as my chest sends more fire upwards.

I wake up, my chest sore. I cough, which hurts a lot, and Connor enters my room, looking worried.

"Clara!" He exclaims softly as he rushes over to my bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Never better." I say weakly, but I manage to pull of the sarcasm. "How long have I been asleep?"

"Three days. You're lucky; your armor deflected most of the damage. Achilles says you should be back to health in a month." Connor says.

He sits down in the chair next to my bed.

"Thank you for coming. When I called you." I say.

"It is nothing." Connor replies.

I sigh, but my chest hurts. "We need to talk. About my being a Templar." I say.

Connor nods.

"I am so sorry. I've betrayed you. But you _must _believe me. I am an Assassin now. I was forced to become a Templar by my parents, and Charles Lee. I can understand if you won't forgive me, but if we could… someday… regain our friendship, I would like that very much." I tell him.

Connor chuckles. I stare at him for a second, because I've never heard him chuckle before. I love the sound of it.

"Clara, you saved my life. I am in your debt. Of course I forgive you." He says. He leans forward and takes my hand in his. I begin to cry.

"Clara, what's wrong?" Asks Connor, bewildered.

"Ruth is dead." I reply softly.

Connor turns sympathetic. He rubs my hand in his, and lets me cry. After a while, I stop, and he gets up to leave. I hold on to his hand.

"Please, stay." I request. Connor smiles a small smile just for me, and sits down on my bed.

"Thank you." I whisper. I lie my head on his lap, and Connor stiffens up. After a second he relaxes and puts his feet up on the bed, and I lift my head up. Connor wriggles down until our heads are next to each other's, and I rest my head on his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat. It's calm, and soon it lulls me into a deep sleep.


	15. Chapter 15

CHAPTER 14

_I walk outside, into the cold rain. Achilles stands at the edge of the cliff, looking grim. As I approach him, he turns around and walks to the graves of his wife and son. I notice a third grave next to them, freshly dug._

"_Whose grave is that?" I ask loudly over the sound of the rain._

_Achilles turns to me, his face streaked with tears. I look at the grave._

_HERE LIES_

_Connor Kenway._

_A loyal Assassin, may he rest in peace._

"_My heart belongs to you, my dearest love. Clara."_

_I turn to Achilles, my face horror-struck. Tears well up in my eyes, and Achilles suddenly glares at me. _

"_This is your fault." He growls. Suddenly he pulls out Connor's tomahawk and runs at me with impossible speed. As he reaches me and just as the blade hits my skull a white light fills my vision._

"Clara!" I hear a voice shout. It's deep, comforting.

I realize someone is pinning my wrists down on the bed. I open my eyes, which are wet with tears, and I see Connor's face.

"Oh, Connor!" I gasp, suddenly overcome with a strange emotion. I sit up quickly, ignoring the pain from my chest, and I hug Connor around his neck. He is completely bewildered by my strange action, but hesitantly hugs me back. I cry into his neck.

"Clara, what is wrong?" He asks.

I continue to cry for a few moments before I get a hold on myself.

"I'm sorry." I say, ashamed that Connor's seen me cry. "I'm being childish. I had a dream, that's all."

"What was the dream about?"

"You died. Achilles tried to kill me." I reply. I look into Connor's brown eyes, staring deep into them, not really sure of what I'm trying to accomplish.

He stares back before leaning forward, hugging me again.

"Do not worry. I will never leave." He says softly.

We lean backwards and stare at each other. I can feel something, deep inside my heart, like a beast is stirring from a long sleep.

The beast rubs it's eyes a few times. It's not so much a beast as a flame, something that has been long dead inside me. The flame grows, feeding on my complex emotions, until it feels as if my whole chest is alight with it. It continues to grow, larger and larger until It's not a single flame but a ravenous fire, threatening to consume me.

Then I hear a knock at my bedroom door, and Achilles walks in. He sees Connor and I sitting on the bed and chuckles before leaving the room. I sigh, and sit back, resting against the headboard. The fire dulls back into a single flame. Still just as bright, but it has been contained.

For now.

A month passes. I am restrained to my bed for the first week, but as the days pass I am allowed further out from my prison. I long to run, to leap through the air, to hunt, but I know I would only worsen my injury.

So I wait. Not very patiently, but I wait all the same.

Connor and I talk whenever he isn't training. I thought I knew him, after our many months of training with him, but this is a different side. Before, I knew his personality. Now I know his emotions. I make him laugh. As we grow closer he reveals his emotions more until we are almost completely open to each other. He laughs regularly, as do I, and on the few times when we mention parents or other such depressing topics, Connor suddenly turns sad. He had told me about his mother's horrible death long ago, but he had said it with a stone face.

Then one day, Achilles finally lets me train again. My chest is healed almost completely, though there is a large scar where the bullet had entered. I can hear Connor training near the stables, so I don my Assassin robes and weapons. I run down the stairs and out to the stables to surprise Connor. As I reach him he turns to me and a happy, surprised look lights up his face.

"Clara! Why are you out?" He asks.

"Achilles said I've healed!" I reply happily. I flick out my hidden blades and smile at Connor, challenging him. He flicks out his blades as well, and I approach him, impatient for the fight to start. As I take the first strike, I can feel Connor going easy on me, but I still find it hard to even come close to his strength. He strikes and I whip up my arm to stop him, but I barely slow him. If it weren't for Connor's quick reflexes, my head would be rolling on the ground right now. I am quite disappointed, but I suppose it was bound to happen. I haven't used any muscle for a month.

"You need to help me regain my strength." I demand, looking at Connor sternly.

"Very well. Follow me." He says.

He leads me to the barn and lifts me up to I can grab hold of a wooden beam.

"Pull yourself up." He commands.

I try, but I can only get halfway up. I keep pushing myself, letting myself shout out in frustration. I grunt and finally heave myself up, balancing easily. At least I haven't lost my co-ordination; just my power. I make a noise of frustration. I look down at Connor, who is looking sympathetic but amused.

"What?" I snap.

"You make the most curious noises." He replies.

I give Connor my most powerful, chilling glare, and he laughs once before lifting his arms up for me to jump into. My pride gets in the way, though, so I decide to jump down just next to him.

It doesn't work like that.

Connor moves to just below me, and catches me before I hit the ground. I would have broken something if he hadn't caught me, but I am still slightly irritated.

Then I notice Connor still hasn't put me down.

I look at him, the irritation draining out of me in seconds, and my heart beats faster. We stare at each other, and then Connor clears his throat and puts me down, stepping back. His face has the same emotionless mask as before, and I blush, embarrassed.

If he doesn't make a move soon I'll have to take matters into my own hands.

We continue as before but then I hear a knock at the door of the main house. I walk out of the barn and see who it is.

A man, dressed in settler's clothes, is knocking at our door. I run over to him.

"Excuse me." I say as I approach, pushing my hood down as I go.

He turns around and smiles broadly.

"Hello, madam. I am looking for a man called Achilles. I'm supposed to deliver some supplies to him." The man says. "I'm George." He adds, holding out his hand. I take it, and he kisses the back of my hand. I roll my eyes when he isn't looking.

"I'm Clara. Achilles is inside the house, I'll take the supplies inside." I tell him. I walk over to the box and pick it up, pleased that I can lift it fairly easily.

"Do you want some help?" Asks George.

"No, I'm fine." I reply. George looks impressed.

I open the door and walk inside, placing the box on the kitchen table before walking back outside. George is waiting for me.

"Thank you." I say, hinting for George to leave. He gets it.

"It was a delight to meet you, Clara." He says, taking my hand once again. I hear Connor appear behind me, and George looks up. He jumps slightly but keeps his composure. He kisses my hand again.

George leaves and I turn around.

"Why was he kissing you?" Asks Connor, annoyed.

"I don't know, it's polite." I reply calmly.

"He should learn to respect when he can and cannot kiss a woman!" Connor mumbles angrily.

I turn to him, amused. "Why are you so annoyed?" I ask with a smile.

Connor raises an eyebrow at me and walks inside. We enter the kitchen. I place the box of supplies on the table and then I head back out to the barn.

Time passes again, and over the next few weeks I work hard at regaining my strength. I make sure to stretch thoroughly before and after each session, because I don't want to be weighed down by muscle. I want to be strong, but not bulky. It's useful for deception; I look like an innocent young lady but in reality I'm deadly. Connor keeps his distance from me, which makes me a bit sad. We train together, but we don't have any more good conversations. I'm going to get sick of waiting for him soon.

**Hey guys! I'm sorry about the whole "Time passes" and "Months later" stuff but I think it would be boring if I told you about Clara's recovery and workouts and stuff. Also, I'm thinking about doing a Connor point of view chapter, but I'm not sure yet. I'm indecisive! So let me know whether you think it would be cool or not and also again a big thanks to everyone who favorites, follows and reviews! I'm not sure if people give shoutouts on Fanfiction sites but if they do, again let me know and I'll give a shoutout to you if you favorite\review\follow! Also my current followers and stuff will get a shoutout. But only if people actually give shoutouts. I don't want to seem like a tosser.**

**ANYWAY I'll stop blabbering and… yeah… Review, follow, ect! Love from JennaKobis!**


	16. Chapter 16

CHAPTER 15

**Hello!  
I just wanted to say, THANK YOU!  
I'm not sure if this is a lot, but I'm still REALLY excited about it!  
This fanfiction now has 14 favorites and 19 followers! It probably isn't much, but to me it seems amazing that I even got 1 of those! I also now have 15 reviews, just 5 more until I get 20, so no more chapters until I reach that milestone!  
I'm so glad you people actually like my story, so now here is a chapter I've been really excited about!**

I hear a ring at the door. I get up off the couch, where Achilles and I were sitting, reading books. As I open the door I internally groan; George is back.

He hasn't visited since he dropped off Achilles' supplies, but he irritated me then, and the feeling hasn't since faded.

"Hello, George." I say unenthusiastically.

"Good afternoon, Clara." He replies cheerfully. Does anyone have to right to be so constantly, sickeningly happy?

"What do you want?" I ask. I may sound slightly cold, but to be honest I'd rather continue reading my book than anything else, and George is nauseating.

"I was wondering if you'd like to come and take a walk with me." Requests George.

I hear Achilles approach from behind me.

"Oh, um, I'd love to, George, but I have…" I look at Achilles. "jobs to do. You know, cleaning." I lie wildly.

"Oh, Clara, I think I can let you off this once. Connor can clean." Achilles says, and I can hear his internal laughter. I shoot him a vicious glare, and Connor appears at the top of the stairs. He sees the three of us standing at the door and approaches us, glaring at George.

"What are you doing here?" He asks George rudely.

"_I _was about to ask this lady out for a walk." He replies, equally as rude. They approach each other, and I can tell this is about to get violent.

"Clara, why don't you and George take that walk?" Asks Achilles. I appreciate him trying to break up Connor and George, but he's throwing me to the wolves! I glare at him before pushing George out the door and closing it.

I walk along with George, trying to seem polite.

"So, Clara, why are you living with _those two_?" George asks, obviously inquiring about Connor's Native blood and Achilles' appearance.

"Those two have saved my life. They are just like you or I." I say to George, glaring at him and dropping the Innocent Boston Girl act.

George looks puzzled at my defensive comment, but shrugs it off. "Where did you grow up?" He asks.

"Boston." I reply, my patience gone.

"And do you have anyone back in Boston?" He asks. I roll my eyes.

"No." I say. George can tell from my tone that I'm not available, but he mistakes the reason.

"Ah, I see. You and the savage-"

"Connor is _not _a savage." I growl.

"Fine, Connor." George corrects. "Are you…"

"No." I reply curtly. What puzzles me is that a part of me wishes that I could say yes.

I steer us back to the house. I pick up our pace a bit, so that I don't have to spend any more time with George. When we reach the front door I open it and walk inside, where Connor and Achilles are in the living room. Connor stands up and walks over to George at the door.

"Hello, savage." George says snidely.

Connor doesn't react, and I'm proud of him.

"Clara is not interested in you." Connor says calmly.

"And how do you know that? She told me there was nothing going on between you two." George retorts.

I see Connor's face fall slightly, and then George approaches him.

"You'd better leave us alone." George growls. He is around the same height as Connor, which is quite a feat; Connor is unusually tall. George shoves Connor in the chest, and when Connor still refuses to react he throws a punch.

A fight breaks out. I roll my eyes.

_Idiots. _I think as they roll around.

"Hey!" I shout as they nearly bowl me over. Neither of them listen to me, and I wonder how in the world I'm going to separate them.

Then I have an idea.

I run into the kitchen, into the pantry. I grab the jar of cinnamon off the shelf and run back into the hallway, where Connor and George continue to beat each other up. I take a big handful of the cinnamon and I throw it onto Connor and George; hoping it will make them sneeze.

It doesn't work, so I take another handful of cinnamon, then another until I finally grab the whole jar and pour it on top of them.

It works, and Connor and George are overcome by a fit of sneezing, coughing and choking. Achilles makes a sound of amusement, mixed with irritation. As soon as George stops coughing I take him by the collar and heave him out the door. He looks back at me, his eyes red and his face bruised and battered.

"Don't come back here! I am not interested in a suitor!" I yell at him. I slam the door and turn to Connor, who is still coughing and sneezing. He soon stops, and I help him to his feet. I pull him into the kitchen, where I grab a rag and wet it in the water bucket, returning with it to Connor.

He was smart enough to close his eyes once I threw the cinnamon, so his eyes aren't red. He has a black eye, a split lip and a huge bruise on one cheek. I put the rag down on the table and fill a teacup with water. I give it to Connor, who drinks it gratefully and coughs once he's finished.

"You are a fool." I say, annoyed.

"I was only-"

"You were only being childish." I say, cutting him off.

Connor opens his mouth to say something, but closes it quickly. I pick up the rag and start to clean his lip. I press harder than I usually would, because I'm annoyed, and Connor winces. I soften.  
When I'm done with Connor's lip, I search around for Achilles' medicines. I eventually find some, and I return to Connor, smearing some onto his cheek and gently rubbing it in. When I'm done, I sigh and rub my eyes a bit. I open them, and Connor is looking at me in a very strange way. We lean closer to each other, and my heart beats faster. Connor hesitates. He looks like he's about to pull away, but doesn't want to.

"For god's sake…" I mumble. I lean forward quickly and so does Connor.

And we kiss.

I smile, as does Connor. My heart gains speed until it feels like it might fly out of my chest. Connor raises his hand and places it on my cheek, and I pull away, out of breath. Connor groans. I laugh softly.

He looks deep into my eyes, like he's wanting to know what I'm thinking. I lean forwards again, and we kiss once more. Connor wraps his arms around my waist, and I snake my arms around his neck. I let out a soft, contented noise. Eventually, Connor speaks.

"What does this mean?" He asks.

"It means we care for each other. You, Mr Kenway, are a suitor." I joke.

Connor leans his forehead against mine. "I am glad." He says simply.

I close my eyes and breathe in deeply. Connor smells of pine needles, and I smile once again.

Then I hear a knock at the door. I groan, and then I separate myself from Connor and walk to the front door. I open it to see Kanen'tó:kon standing there.

"Hello." I greet him, smiling. "Is everything alright?" I ask, suddenly concerned.

"Please, Clara, I must speak to Ratonhnhaké:ton. It is urgent." He replies.

"Of course." I say, turning around.

"Connor! Come quickly!" I exclaim, turning back to the native in front of me. Connor appears behind me and rushes forward.

"Kanen'tó:kon? Why are you here? Has something happened?" He asks frantically.

"William Johnson has returned- with all the money required to buy our land. He meets with the elders as we speak. I have begged them to resist but I fear he shall have his way unless you intervene."

"How did this happen? We destroyed the tea." I say, joining the conversation.

"The Templars are nothing if not resourceful." Achilles says, appearing in the door frame. "You should have heeded my warning."

"Please, you have to stop him." Kanen'tó:kon pleads.

"Of course, where are they meeting?" Connor asks, and he and Kanen'tó:kon begin to talk in their own language.

"Make sure Johnson is dead this time, Clara." Achilles says to me.

"Of course." I reply, glancing at Connor. He seems deep enough in conversation, so I decide to ask. "Achilles?"

"Yes?"

"Has Connor ever… been in a relationship? Has he ever courted?" I ask, blushing.

Achilles smiles knowingly and also glances at Connor. "No, Clara. He has never courted. He's been too focused on training; before now, that is."

I narrow my eyes at Achilles, at what he's implying, but I suppose he's right.

I turn to Connor, who has finished talking with Kanen'tó:kon. We run down to the stables and mount our horses, galloping off.

We arrive at Johnson Hall while the sun is still up. There are guards at the bottom of the cliff, so Connor and I sneak around them, up the hill and towards Johnson Hall. We climb up into the trees and make our way from there; it's stealthier to use the trees in this situation.

We soon perch on the edge of the rooftop at Johnson Hall, where Johnson is talking with several Native elders. Connor and I leap in and a fight breaks out, and when Connor kills Johnson I have his back while they talk. Connor soon stands up.

"We have to go!" I exclaim. Connor nods, so we sprint towards the cliff. With my heart drumming a million miles an hour, we leap into the water and sink deep down. I kick hard and just as my lungs begin to scream I burst out of the water and gulp in several huge breaths of air. I search around for Connor, who bursts up near me after a few seconds.

"Are you ok?" I ask.

Connor nods, and we swim up to the shore. From there we run into the forest, even though we're exhausted. Once we're a good distance away, I sink down onto my hands and knees and cough a few times, completely out of breath. Connor leans against a tree and sinks down so he's sitting, and we wait a while until we regain our breath. We walk back to the homestead in silence, holding hands, simply because we're too tired to talk. When we reach the front door I walk inside, up to my room and collapse onto the bed, falling asleep almost instantly.

**Ahahha I'm so excited about Connor and Clara! :3  
Anyway, I'm sorry about the really vague bit with killing Johnson and all that but I couldn't A: find any dialogue of it on YouTube, B: Find any fanfictions with it, or C: Just play the game until I get up to it cos I'm just too lazy.  
So, yeah. Hope you enjoyed this chapter, even with the brief kill at the end. This was mainly a fluff chapter! There's more fluff coming up. Yay! I love writing (and reading) fluff!  
Anyway leave a review so I can hit 20 reviews (remember, no more chapters until I hit 20) and follow and favorite if you think it's that good! Love from Jenna!**


	17. Chapter 17

CHAPTER 16

**Hello people!  
I just want you to know that the timeline for my fanfic is going to be AU. As in, things will happen in the same order but closer together. My story won't work if Connor and Clara are romantic with each other for 10 years, so things will just happen quicker. Just wanted you to know.  
Now, on with the story!**

I pull back on the string of my bow, aiming directly at the doe's head. As soon as it puts its head down I'll shoot.

"Clara!" I hear someone shout.

The doe bolts, and I let go of the bowstring, the arrow flying through the air. It burrows deep into the earth next to the doe, and I lose my prey.

I jump down from the tree and approach Connor, irritated, but happy to see him all the same. I walk into his arms.

"Why did you call out? I had that kill ready!" I exclaim while planting a kiss on his cheek.

"Sorry. But we have been invited to a formal gathering in Philadelphia." Connor says, smiling at me.

My mood suddenly brightens. Philadelphia sounds nice. "Because of the Lexington incident?" I ask him, remembering our most recent adventure with the "Sons of Liberty".

"Most likely." Connor replies.

Connor and I sit next to Sam Adams, listening to Washington's speech. I have to wear a dress, which irritates me, but I have to blend in. I refused to wear a corset.

"Truly, there is no man better suited to the task." Sam whispers.

"Really? I can think of several." A voice muttered in the back. I turn around to find Charles Lee. I quickly turn around again, begging that he didn't see my face. Connor turns around too.

"Charles Lee." Connor growls.

"Do I know you?" Charles asks mockingly, moving forward in his seat a little.

"I would not expect you to remember." Connor spits. I grab his hand, restraining him from doing something foolish.

"Come Connor - there's someone I want you to meet." Sam says, distracting him, and dragging the native towards Washington. "Sorry to pull you away like that, but the last thing we need is the two of you coming to blows." He whispers to Connor and I. He clears his throat and gestures to a man in a blue uniform.

"Connor and Clara, allow me to introduce you to our newly appointed Commander-in-Chief, George Washington."

"Ah! So you're the one who saved Sam and John at Lexington!" Exclaims George, looking at Connor and completely ignoring me. I did half the work at Lexington, the least he could do is thank me!

"It was the Patriots who did that, _we_ merely lent support." Connor says modestly, looking at me like he's trying to shove some of the spotlight on to me.

"As humble as he is brave. We could use more men like you. I'm sorry, but if you'll excuse me - I should attend to Charles over there. He looks none too happy about being passed over for command. It was good to meet you, Connor." Washington says.

Connor turns to Adams. "Tell me you have news of Pitcairn."

"I'm told he's taken shelter in Boston, where he's guarded by a thousand Redcoats. The only way you're going to get at him, is if we draw him out. Lucky for you, we're launching an offensive against the city in order to do just that. Israel Putnam has been given command of our forces. Present this to him and he'll provide whatever aid you require. You'll find him at the encampment on Bunker Hill." Sam says.

"You have my thanks." Connor replies.

"No need. It's the least I could do. Pitcairn's a dangerous man. The sooner we're rid of him, the better."

"I would say the same of Charles Lee." Connor counters.

"Now that's an altogether different beast. Let us leave it for another day. Best you head to Boston, Connor and Clara." Sam says.

Connor and I exit the room, walking out into the hallway of the building. I make an annoyed noise.

"What is the matter?" Connor asks.

"George Washington." I say, extremely annoyed. "He acted like I didn't even exist! I helped at Lexington, too! I wasn't just another helpless woman who screamed her head off."

Connor makes an amused noise. "I know, but we need to stay on good terms with these people."

I cross my arms angrily and walk ahead of Connor, who keeps up easily.

"People just need to start recognizing women as equals. It's the same as with you, or Achilles. Just because I am a woman, doesn't mean I'm weak." I say to him.

Although Philadelphia has been nice, the experience was marred by Washington's treatment of me. If Washington treats me the same way next time we meet, he's going to get an earful. And quite possibly a broken nose.

I wrench open the door with anger, my hair soaking wet from the rain, an unusual occurrence in summer. Connor follows me inside.

"I can't believe those bastards! I just- oh!" I rage, my voice an octave higher from my anger. "We go to them trying to help, we kill Pitcairn, we help them fight their battle against the British, and what do you get? Respect. Thanks. And what do I get? Several eyes on my breasts. A few… disgusting comments. Even a few men tried to- to-" I shudder. "_grope _me." I storm upstairs into my bedroom. Connor follows. I can feel his concern. Mixed with laughter. I spin around suddenly.

"Stop laughing!" I spit. "It's bad enough I have to deal with those _apes, _and now you as well? Ratohnhnaké:ton, if you aren't quiet within the next ten seconds, I will break your nose."

I sit down on my bed with a great big huff. Connor sits down next to me.

"I am sorry, Clara. But you are very… amusing when you are angry." Connor says.

I glare at him. "I don't know why it gets me so angry. It's childish, but I cannot help myself. I just… I'm so sick of it. I warn you, I don't care if we need those men to save your people, or to kill the Templars. If one more man tries to court me, or grab me, or even _look _at me in a certain way, the only contact they will have with me is with my fist!"

Connor holds my hand and I can feel the anger slowly drizzle out of me.

"Clara, do you really think I am free from those men? While they may respect me, they still think of me no different than anyone else. To them, I am a savage. They think I spend my free hours digging in the mud. I understand your problem." Connor says, placing an arm around my shoulders. I turn to him and give him a small kiss.

"Thank you." I say softly. I lean into his shoulder, and Connor rests his head on mine.

"I am glad you have a temper. It gives you strength. Do not hate your anger; contain it, and let it give you power." Connor advises.

"You sound like Achilles." I joke. I stand up, still holding Connor's hand. "Come." I say. "I want to warm up."

I lead Connor downstairs, into the living room. I sit in front of the fire, holding my hands out to it. I remember I once thought of my temper as the fire; hot and wild. Uncontainable.

Yet here we sit in front of it, unafraid to be burnt. It gives us warmth. Comfort.

It can also kill.

"_Alice!" I scream out, terrified. The fire is hot, much too hot. The blaze grows higher and higher, and the smoke chokes me, burns my throat and lungs. My little sister, Alice, is nowhere to be found. My throat is tight with fear for her. I want to race back upstairs, to look for her there, but a seven year old girl cannot run through a blazing fire._

_Suddenly someone grabs me around my waist. I am carried outside, to the cool air. A crowd of people have gathered to watch the house turn to ash, but only my rescuer has dared to race inside. The stranger places me on the ground._

"_Are you alright?" The stranger says. It's a man with a British accent._

"_I'm fine, but my sister! She's still inside!" I exclaim. _

_The man stands up. "Stay right here!" He orders._

_And with that he returns inside. A few minutes later he runs out, carrying a little girl in his arms. My Alice._

_She is limp and burned. She has awful red marks covering most of her skin. The man places her gently on the ground._

"_Alice!" I cry out as I run towards her. She doesn't move. I fall to my knees beside her and cradle her head in my arms. She isn't breathing._

"_Alice, no, no, please! Alice!" I exclaim, tears streaming down my face, mixing with the ash and dust. After a while, the man places his hand on my shoulder._

"_Who are you?" I whisper to him._

"_My name is Haytham. It's going to be alright." Haytham says, rubbing my shoulder._

I haven't ever seen Haytham again. Connor's father is also named Haytham, but he is a Templar. He wouldn't risk his life for two little girls, so they must be two different people.

"Clara… Why are you crying?" Connor asks gently.

I quickly raise a hand to my face, and find tears on my cheeks. I haven't realized I'd been crying.

"Oh." I murmur. "I was just thinking about my sister."

Connor sighs. "You told me she died. Back in the cave."

How funny that Connor would remember. After all this time, he still remembers that small comment after I'd refused to approach the fire.

"Tell me about her." Connor says, resting his chin on my head.

I sigh and wipe away the tears. "She was smart. Pretty. Kind. She had the most beautiful laugh. She was almost perfect. She was an annoying sister at times, but I miss her so. My parents only began to hurt me after she died. She had a way of looking at the good in life. She never spoke ill of people, or anything, for that matter." I say.

Connor looks at me and kisses me, sympathetic. I know that if anyone can understand, it's him.

"What about your brother?" He asks.

"James? He is older than I am. He's twenty three. He has a wife and baby son in New York. Sarah and Theodore. They are the most darling people. James ran away from home soon after Alice died. When I was fifteen, I started receiving letters from him. He was living in New York, and he'd just met Sarah. He spoke very fondly of her. He invited me to come and live with him, but I knew my parents would track us down if I went to live with him. So I said no, but the day you and I met met I'd travelled back from visiting James. I hadn't seen my brother in… around ten years." I tell Connor.

We sit in front of the fire for a while more, until Connor stands up and walks downstairs, into the secret basement.

Connor stood in front of the portraits in the basement, thinking about Clara.

"How fares the hunt, Connor?" Asked Achilles as he entered the basement.

"There is progress, but I worry it is not enough." Connor said.

"You must strike where you're needed most. What if you pursued Charles Lee and your father – what then of Paul Revere? And the soldiers at Lexington?" Achilles asked.

"Soldiers? There were no soldiers in those towns - only men and women forced to defend themselves."

"Is this not why you fight? To protect your people? Your struggle is the colonists' struggle. In helping one, you help the other." Achilles said, walking away.

Connor turned around, suddenly angry. Of all his emotions, his anger was the hardest to control. "Encouraging words from one who thought mine a fool's errand." He said, walking angrily towards the old man.

"Make no mistake – I still do. But I can't help but feel some pride in your success." Achilles replied calmly.

Connor looked down. "And why should I give you any credit?" He asked.

"Then don't. But first, return the robe. And the blades. And the darts. And all the years of training and knowledge I have bestowed upon you." Achilles retorted, walking up the stairs. "Return these and then your words may have some merit."

Connor stood in the basement and made a face. Then, his anger flaring up again, he ran up the stairs two at a time. He found Achilles in the kitchen.

"Or you could just admit that you were wrong!" I hear Connor exclaim angrily.

I turn around, slightly alarmed. I get up and walk into the kitchen, where Connor and Achilles are arguing.

"Oh child, please. You've killed two men – one more salesman than soldier. You're gonna have to try a lot harder than that to impress me."Achilles tells him.

Connor walks towards Achilles angrily. "Is that so, old man? Or perhaps we should step outside? I will gladly demonstrate how easily I could trounce y…" Connor trails off. I follow him into the next room, where Achilles stands with another man.

"Connor, this is Benjamin Tallmadge. His father was one of us, no need for secrecy. I think he has something he wants to say." Achilles says.

"Achilles tells me you've uncovered a plot to kill the Commander in Chief." Benjamin says.

"Yes. But I have only false starts and dead ends to show for it." Connor replies, calming down slightly.

"Not anymore, my friend. Thomas Hickey's your man, and I aim to help you catch him." Benjamin says, walking over to Connor and placing a hand on his shoulder. Connor doesn't react well to it; he isn't comfortable being touched by someone he isn't familiar with.

"How?" Connor asks, looking down uncomfortably.

"I'll explain on the way. You and I are going to New York." Benjamin says, leading him out of the room.

I clear my throat loudly, and Benjamin turns around as if he's just noticed me.

"Another assassin, Achilles?" He asks, looking impressed.

"Yes." I reply. "And I'm coming."

Benjamin nods and the three of us walk out the door. I can't help but feel exited; perhaps I'll get to visit James?

**Wow! That was a seriously long chapter! I can't wait for the next chapter! Thank you so so so so SO much for reading my fanfiction! I absolutely love writing it, and every review or follow or favorite I get inspires me to write more! If it weren't for you guys, I'd probably have stopped after chapter 4 or something, so I am really grateful to you guys! I love you!  
From Jenna!**


	18. Chapter 18

CHAPTER 17

Connor and I ride alongside Benjamin as we enter New York.

"So what is your stake in all this?" Connor asks.

"Same as yours. Peace. Stability. A land in which all might live side by side – free and equal." Benjamin replies.

"Why not join the Brotherhood, then?" I ask.

"My father was an assassin. Quite good at his job, too, as I understand it. But… I hope to have children someday. It's hard to live in two worlds at the same time – so I chose to live in one." Replies Benjamin.

"I understand." I reply. I understand better than anyone, I just chose a different path to Benjamin.

"I still contribute as I can. It's why we're here now." Benjamin says.

We continue to ride through New York. We reach the main streets, and Benjamin speaks again.

"He has been running a counterfeiting ring in the city. Locate the source of his operations, and we can have him arrested. He cannot harm the Commander if he is in prison." He says, talking about Hickey.

"Do you know where he is?" Asks Connor.

"Not exactly. But I have an idea of where we can begin the search." Benjamin replies, leading us to a marketplace. We dismount our horses, walking closer to the street stalls.

"There are rumors of bad bills being circulated here. No doubt they come from Thomas." Benjamin tells us.

Connor and I walk around, listening in to conversations between shopkeepers and customers, and trying to glean as much information as we can. I steal an apple as well; I'm hungry.

I've just about given up, when I hear an interesting conversation. Well, maybe conversation is the wrong word.

"What are you up to? This isn't money! It's colored paper! You've cheated me for the last time! GUARDS!" A shopkeeper roars. Connor and I watch from a distance. The customer stumbles back and walks away quickly. Connor nods to me, and we set off. We tail the counterfeiter for a while, through alleyways, crowded streets, backyards and everything in between. Eventually he stops in a backyard, where there are several other men waiting for him.

"Oi, Daniel. Best put them bills away. The guards is on to us." The counterfeiter says.

"How? What happened?" Daniel asks.

"Damn shopkeep called me out. Brought the guards, but I gave them the slip." The counterfeiter replies.

"Boss is gonna be mad." Warns Daniel.

"Not so mad as if I'd gotten caught. 'Sides, we've got most everything we need for the job now, anyway."

"Best go tell him. I'll warn the others." Daniel replies.

The men depart, and Connor and I continue to tail the counterfeiter through the same crazy network of streets and alleyways. He meets up with another man and they have a conversation as they walk. I catch snippets of their conversation, but Connor hears it all. He has hearing like an eagle's.

Then they stop talking and enter a building. Connor and I wait a few moments.

"Clara, you should not come." Connor warns.

I roll my eyes at him. "Do you really think I'm going to stay away? Don't be a fool, Connor, of course I'm coming."

Connor's mouth raises slightly, a small twitch, before he approaches the door. He is about to pick the lock, but something stops him. He takes several big steps back, and rams himself into the door, bursting into the room. Thomas Hickey and a few other men turn to the door, surprised.

"Wot's this?" Hickey asks.

"Thomas Hickey?" Connor asks angrily.

"Might be. Wot's it to ya?" Hickey replies.

In answer, Connor flicks out his hidden blade and I follow suit.

"Ain't s'pposed to be none of your kind left." Hickey says.

He takes a few steps backwards and two of his henchmen step forward. "Suppose I'd best be rectifying that, then. Get him!" Hickey exclaims. He seizes a pouch of money from the table and runs out the door. The two henchmen come at us, a third appearing from nowhere. Connor kills one, but he needs to get Hickey.

"Go!" I exclaim, stabbing a henchman in the eye. Connor runs to the window and bursts through it, while I turn to face the third man. He pulls out a sword and smiles evilly. He runs at me, probably thinking I'll scream and cry. I dodge his attack, my mind half on Connor.

The henchman attacks again, and because my mind is distracted I barely have time to dodge. The man's sword makes a cut on my upper thigh. Not life threatening, but I certainly won't be able to climb or run with it. Connor will be on his own.

I stare at the henchman, and he runs at me again. I twist to the side and stab him in the gut, and he falls to the ground.

"Where is Hickey going?" I ask the man threateningly. He has a chance at survival; if I let him. He knows this. The man tells me the answer, and I get up, ignoring the pain in my leg. I jog outside, making my way to where the henchman said Hickey would be. I see Connor holding him up against the wall, but then a guard comes and grabs both of them.

"You are both under arrest." The guard says loudly, so that I can just hear him.

Hickey argues back, but Connor silences him. He asks the guard a question, and in response the bag Hickey took with him is held up. Connor points at it and says something in protest, but after a few sentences he is hit by one of the guards and falls to the ground. He doesn't get back up.

I gasp furiously. I almost intervene, but I realize I haven't got a hope against three or four trained guards with my leg. They pick up Connor by his arms and heave him into a wagon.

"Where to?" Calls one of the guards.

"Bridewell Prison." Another replies. They force Hickey into the back of the cart as well and drive off, leaving me helpless. I swear at myself internally. I head back to my horse and meet Benjamin, who is still waiting there.

"Where's Connor?" He asks.

"He was arrested. I didn't hear why." I reply.

"Where have they taken him?"

"Bridewell Prison." Go back to Achilles and tell him what's happened. I'll stay here." I tell Benjamin.

"What happened to your leg?"

"It's fine. Don't worry. Just get back to Achilles."

I swing myself up onto my horse painfully, and ride off in the direction of my brother's house. He knows about the Templars and Assassins, but he doesn't know what I've become. He refused to get involved with the entire situation the last time I spoke with him.

I arrive at his house just as the sun begins to set. It has been a long day. I tie up my horse just outside James' house, and I knock on his door. Sarah answers the door, her blond hair tied back into a bun, Theodore in her arms.

"Why Clara, it's nice to see you!" She exclaims. "Would you like to come in?"

"Thank you." I reply. I enter the house, feeling at home here.

"Clara, what are you wearing?" Sarah asks. "What happened to your leg? Are you in trouble?" She asks, concerned. She's like an older sister.

"I need to speak to James. I'll be fine for now, but please. I must see him." I tell Sarah. She nods and rushes off into the house. A few moments later she returns with James.

"Clara!" He exclaims, happy to see me but looking worried. He's grown a short beard since I last saw him. "What's wrong? Is it our parents?"

"No… In a way. It will take a while to explain." I say.

"Well, you need to sit down. Your leg doesn't look good." James tells me. He leads me into the living room and I sit down, suddenly exhausted.

"Well, tell me everything." He says.

I exhale, then tell him the story, from when I first met Connor right up until just now. James sits patiently and listens. After he's finished, he has several questions.

"Do Mother and Father know?" He asks, obviously inquiring about his whereabouts.

"No, I didn't tell them anything about you. I wouldn't do that." I assure him. He has a family to protect.

"And now this… Connor fellow. He's been taken to prison? What do you expect to do?"

"I… I don't know. I need a place to stay while I figure things out." I reply.

"Well, you're always welcome here. Stay as long as you like, and I'll get some bandages for your leg." Sarah says. She hands Theodore to James.

"May I?" I ask, holding my arms out to Theodore.

"Of course." Replies James, handing him to me.

"He's grown so much!" I exclaim, making a baby face at the child in my arms. I've never really grown attached to children, but when it's my own nephew I can't help myself. Connor looms in the back of my mind, nagging at the back of my head. I feel helpless, and guilty; here I sit, warm and comfortable while Connor lies in prison.

**Hello!  
I really hope you liked this chapter! Thank you SO much to the people who reviewed or followed or favorited my story! Every time I get a new review, it inspires me to write more, so keep them coming! Love from JennaKobis!**


	19. Chapter 19

**Hey!  
I just wanted to let you guys know that Rain now has 23 followers, 18 favorites and 25 reviews! I know that probably doesn't seem like that much to you guys, but to me it means so much! I've always been really shy and stuff about my writing, so the fact that you guys like it just makes my day! I'm so grateful, because without all your support I wouldn't have written past chapter 2! Thank you so much, and I'll see you guys at the bottom of the page!**

CHAPTER 18

Connor stirred. His face felt sore, and he no longer wore his white uniform. He was clothed in a simple ragged shirt and pants. No shoes.

Connor's eyes opened. He was sitting in a dark, dirty cell. Stone floors with a little straw on them. In a hole in the wall Connor could see a face. Thomas Hickey.

"You…" Growled Connor, standing up.

"You miss me, sweet'art?" Hickey mocked. Connor glared.

"Wot? Nothing to say?"

"If you are here, then Washington is safe."

"True. True. Thing is…" Hickey said, turning towards his cell door. "I think I've just been pardoned." A guard, along with Charles Lee and Haytham Kenway walked along the corridor to Hickey's cell. Connor felt a jolt in his stomach upon seeing his father. The guard opened Hickey's cell door.

"Thank you kindly for the rescue, gents." Hickey said cockily.

"There can be no further mistakes, Thomas. Am I understood?" Haytham asked. He walked away.

"Wot about the Assassin?" Hickey asked.

Haytham turned around.

"E's here. They put 'im in the cell next to mine. Guess we didn't quite get 'em all, eh?" Hickey said.

Haytham turned to Charles. "Deal with this, Charles." He said.

"At once, sir." Lee said, nodding. Haytham turned and walked away.

"Wot are we gonna do?" Hickey asked.

Charles Lee turned slowly and strutted towards Connor's cell.

"You're that boy from the Continental Congress. Adam's little lap dog. Hmmm. I think I have an idea… yes. Two birds with one stone." Lee said.

"Wot?"

"All in good time. It's not like the Assassin's going anywhere. For now we should see about getting you better accommodations here." Lee began to walk away.

"What are you on about? I thought I was gettin' out." Hickey objected.

"I'm afraid you won't be leaving for a while, thanks to Benjamin Tallmadge. He's been running his mouth, saying all sorts of things. You're being investigated for plotting to assassinate George Washington."

"What a bunch of bollocks! I thought you was gonna handle that!"

"We'll discuss this _elsewhere_." Charles said.

Lee and Hickey walked off, leaving Connor alone in his cell.

I wince as the doctor pulls the needle through my leg. He's stitching it up, and while necessary, it still hurts. The doctor soon finishes and James pays him, and we are left alone again.

"I'm going to go to Bridewell." I tell James, pulling up my hood and walking to the door.

"Very well. But be careful, Clara. Do not get hurt." James says.

"Of course not." I reply. I hug James goodbye, and walk out the front door. It's not hard to find the prison; a tall, imposing building made of concrete and surrounded by a high brick fence. I squeeze through the gates, which is quite a feat as the gaps are very small. I then realize that I have absolutely no idea where Connor is. I realize this will be a long job, and I have no guarantee he's even in a cell with a window. This could very well turn out to be a long night.

I climb from window to window, checking all the cells for Connor. I eventually find him on the third floor, sleeping on a concrete bed.

"Connor!" I hiss."Ratohnhnahé:ton!"

He stirs, but doesn't wake up. I see a small rock on the windowsill, so I pick it up and throw it at him. It hits the sleeping native right on the shoulder. He jumps like he's had a fright.

Connor stands up and sees me at his window. "Clara!" He whispers, hurrying to the window. I can see Connor more clearly now; He has a black eye and there is blood all over the front of his shirt. There is a mean cut over one of his eyebrows. He seems mostly unharmed, though. Only a few scrapes and bruises.

"Why are you here?" Connor asks quietly.

"To talk to you. Achilles knows about everything, as does James, my brother. We're going to get you out, but not just yet. We need to wait for the right opportunity." I tell Connor.

He nods, and I re-adjust my position.

"I'm sorry, Ratohnhnaké:ton." I say.

"Why?"

"I left you. We should have stuck together."

"This is not your fault." Connor says. We suddenly hear footsteps, so Connor dives back down onto his stone bed and I duck so I won't be seen. As soon as the footsteps fade I raise my head again and Connor gets back to his feet.

"What of Washington?" Connor asks.

"I can take care of that." I reply.

"No, he would not believe you. You are a woman, and your accent would not help to persuade him. He trusts me, I must tell him." Connor says. I know he's right.

"I suppose so. Still, what can we do?" I ask.

We hear footsteps, and I duck down again, Connor crumpling to his bed quickly. When the footsteps fade, Connor and I draw ourselves up again.

"I must go." I tell Connor, not wanting to leave.

"Yes." Connor agrees. He fits a hand through the bars, touching my cheek tenderly, and then I climb down the wall and slip through the gate again. I head back to James' house, going upstairs and straight into his guest bedroom, flopping onto the bed.

Connor woke up from his sleep. He rubbed his face a few times and remembered the previous night, comforted by Clara's message that she was working to get him out of there. Connor was not afraid of prison; far from it. But he would rather be at the homestead than locked up in Bridewell. The thing that puzzled Connor was that even though he was the one locked up in prison, all he could think about was Clara. Was she safe? Alive, even? Connor shook his head to rid himself of those thoughts; Clara was brave, and fierce. She could defend herself well. Connor felt a small sense of pride in that; after all, he had trained her.

Connor could hear several men having a conversation in the cell next to him. He pressed his ear against the wall and listened in.

"I'm tellin ya, he's planning to escape! We should get in on it!" One said.

"Yeah? And what makes you think that?"

"Caught him carving something in the yard. Slipped it in his pocket real quick when 'e saw me. Looked like a key." The first one said.

"Probably just a shiv."

"Nah. Mason ain't a fighter. Always talkin' and ticklin' 'is way out of trouble. Weasel Weems, they call 'im. Sneaky bastard."

"Come on, Finch. He's not so bad. Even taught me some letters once. Gonna write a note to my lady."

Connor stopped listening after that; the men were only arguing about a woman. _I must find this Weems._ He thought.

Connor woke up, face down on the floor.

"Get up." A guard said.

Connor pushed himself up, off the dirty floor. "Where are we going?" He asked.

"Stay out of trouble or you'll wind up in the pit." Was all the guard said. He lead Connor to a common area on the bottom floor. Connor ignored the insults that were thrown at him; things like "half breed" and "savage".

As Connor reached the ground floor, he closed his eyes for a second, feeling the familiar twinge behind his eyes. When he opened them again, the world was grey and white. No prisoners were illuminated, except for one who was shining a bright gold-yellow colour. Connor closed his eyes again, felt the twinge, and when he opened them the world was normal. He headed over towards Weems, a thin, weedy looking man. He was sitting at a lone table, playing with a board of some game. Connor approached him.

"Mason Weems?" Connor asked in a low voice, leaning on the other chair at the table.

"Could be." The man replied.

Connor sat down in the chair. "I need your help." He said.

"Oh?"

"They say you know a way out of here."

"_They _say a lot of things." Weems said mysteriously, moving a piece on his game board.

Connor grabbed Weems' wrist roughly. "I do not have time for games." He said intimidatingly.

"A shame, as I was hoping you might play one with me." Weems replied.

Connor tilted his head back slightly, leaning back in his chair. "Fine."

"Are you familiar with the rules?" Weems asked.

Connor nodded, and picked up a piece. He placed it on the board.

"Seeing as you already know mine – what's your name?" Weems asked.

"Connor."

"Pleased to meet you, Connor." Weems replied, placing a piece on the board.

Connor moved again.

"Well played! Now, what brings you to Bridewell?"

"Treachery. I have been falsely accused." Connor replied bitterly.

"Of course you have…" Mason moved a piece.

"You do not believe me."

"Why should I? You've the look of a brute." Mason pointed out.

"You misjudge. I am an honest man." Connor replied.

"And yet also a man imprisoned. Tell me how you found yourself in this place."

"It is a private matter."

"As is what you ask of me."

"I was trying to prevent a murder."

"Oh? Anyone I know?" Mason asked sarcastically.

"George Washington." Connor replied simply.

Mason looked up from the board, suddenly angry. "The others put you up to this, didn't they?" He asked angrily. "Thought it might be fun to have another laugh at Mason's expense?" Mason stood up. "Fools, the lot of them, to make light of something like this. George Washington is brave beyond measure, loyal like a brother, peerless in character and unshakable in his convictions!"

Connor sat quietly and listened to Mason.

"That man is our Jupiter Conservator, destined not just to lead us to freedom, but to greatness. Anyone who says otherwise is either a simpleton or a traitor." Mason said.

"Then you understand why I need to get out of here. If I don't help him, he is going to die." Connor said strongly.

**Hello again! I just wanted you to know that I've decided I'll only publish a chapter every 5 reviews! I also want to say the school holidays are coming up (finally!) but I'm not sure if I'm going away or not. If I stop publishing, I'm probably away.  
Just wanted you to know!  
Again, THANK YOU! I love you guys! You are all an inspiration to me to keep writing, so just keep reading!  
Love from Jenna!**


	20. Chapter 20

**Hey guys!  
I'm so sorry I've been so bad with uploading recently! It's the last week of school, so I've had tonnes of end-of-term homework and stuff! I've been feeling bad for the past few days! :(  
Anyway, school finished for me today so that's good! I have 2 weeks of holidays now, so I'll be able to write a lot more now! Also, remember I'm now only posting every 5 reviews!  
Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

CHAPTER 19

"Up! Up with ya!" A guard shouted, kicking Connor in his already sore ribs.

They heaved Connor up by his arms. Connor stumbled a bit; still groggy from the previous night. The dreadful memories flooded back to him.

"_You'll need to get into a fight." Mason said…_

_Connor stole the keys from the warden and unlocked his cell door…_

_He approached Hickey's cell, his heart beating faster than usual…_

_He pulled Hickey off his bed, only to discover that it was not Hickey, but the warden, bloody and still…_

_Hickey appeared, taunted him, saying he would be framed for plotting to kill Washington, and would be noosed for it…_

_Connor ran at Charles Lee, knocking the gun away before Lee could shoot…_

"_It was you… all those years ago. The child in the forest was you…" Lee said, holding Connor against the wall by his throat._

"_I said I would find you." Connor growled, half unable to breathe…_

Connor jerked out of his thoughts as the guards shoved him through the door.

"Walk." One of them said, shoving him again.

Connor walked. He regained his balance as he went, down a few stairs and to a door. He winced as his wounds twinged. A guard opened the door and the other one lead him outside, into the rain. Connor winced again. He looked up and saw a wagon directly in front of him. Connor's heart beat faster, nervously. He walked towards the wagon and the guard behind him threw Connor inside, closing the door behind him. Just as Connor looked back, he saw a woman on the rooftops, staring at him, looking slightly nervous. It took Connor a moment to realize it was Clara.

And as the doors closed, Connor let out a sigh of relief; even though he was still nervous, the fact that Clara was there to help comforted him. Clara was one of the very few people Connor knew he could trust with his life.

The wagon rode for a while, eventually stopping. Connor could hear angry shouting in the distance. The wagon doors opened, and the guard threw Connor out, onto the cold, wet stones. Connor's ribs hurt even more. Connor looked up and saw Hickey.

"Ello, Connor. Didn't think I'd miss your going away party, did ya?" Hickey asked mockingly. "I hear Washington 'imself will be in attendance. Hope nuttin' bad happens to 'im."

Connor raised his head high and looked towards the front. "You said there'd be a trial!"

"No trials for traitors, I'm afraid. Lee an' Haytham saw to that. It's straight to the gallows for you!"

"I will not die today." Connor said. "The same cannot be said for you."

"That's enough! Keep moving!" A guard said, shoving Connor from behind. Connor stumbled forwards, before regaining his balance and walking forwards. He walked past a brick fence and into a crowd of angry men and women, who all redoubled their angry shouts as they saw him. Connor saw the gallows up ahead, two men standing on it. Connor couldn't regognise them yet; the rain was too heavy.

However, he did see a guard standing on a roof be assassinated by none other than Stephane Chapheau.

As he approached the gallows, Connor was shoved forwards again. As he made his way to the steps, out of nowhere an angry woman punched Connor in the jaw, hard. Connor fell to his knees. He looked up at the woman and recognized Clara. She was shouting angrily at him, pretending to be an angry rioter. Achilles approached from behind her as Clara was dragged away, back into the crowd.

"You are not alone. Only cry when you need us." Achilles whispered.

"Forget about me. You need to stop Hickey. He's-" Connor was cut off by Hickey.

"Up ya go! Don't wanna be late now, do we?" Hickey laughed, heaving Connor up to his feet again. "You just had to be a hero, didn't ya? You and Georgie both. Now you'll see what it gets ya; a pine box, and nothing else." Hickey shoved Connor towards the steps.

Connor walked up. He walked to the center of the gallows, where Charles Lee was standing.

"Brothers. Sisters. Fellow Patriots. Several days ago we learned of a scheme so vile, so dastardly that even repeating it now, disturbs my being." Lee called over the angry crowd. "The man before you plotted to murder our much beloved General." He said, raising a hand to Connor.

The crowd's volume doubled.

"Indeed. What darkness or madness moved him, none can say. And he himself offers no defense, shows no remorse. And though we have begged and pleaded with him to share what he knows, he maintains a deadly silence." Lee said, placing a bag over Connor's head. Connor could still see, if badly, through the fibers of the bag.

"If the man will not explain himself," Lee continued. "if he will not confess and atone himself, what other option do we have, but this? He sought to send us into the arms of the enemy. And thus, we are compelled by justice to send him from this world. May god have mercy on your soul."

And with that, the crowd turned quiet. Connor felt a jolt, and whistled as loudly as he could. Then he was falling, yet instead of death, he landed on the cold, hard ground. It had been close; the rope had exerted a considerable amount of pressure on Connor's neck before it broke. The bag was ripped off Connor's head by Achilles.

"Need… to stop… Hickey." Connor choked.  
"Go!" Achilles exclaimed, quickly handing Connor his tomahawk, and Connor stumbled out from under the gallows.

Time seemed to slow. Connor dodged past the people, his eyes set on Hickey. George Washington was close, much too close to Hickey. Connor reached his target, and as he leaped through the air, landing on Hickey, he raised the tomahawk and buried it in Hickey's back.

My heart beats faster as a guard throws Connor into the wagon. I'm not sure if he knows what's in stall for him, but I can't worry about that now. I have my part to play. I'm dressed as a normal settler, a skirt and shirt with a rag around my head. I follow the wagon to the gallows, riding after it on my horse. When we arrive, I dismount my horse and sprint towards my place in the crowd, next to Achilles. I start shouting gibberish angrily.

"Clara, remember one punch. Hard, but don't overdo it." Achilles says with all seriousness. Connor won't be expecting what I'm about to do, and if I hit him as hard as I can it could knock him unconscious.

Connor walks into the crowd and we start screaming even louder. As he gets close to the gallows, I run out and punch him in the jaw. He falls to his knees and shakes his head once. I'm dragged back into the crowd as Achilles bends down to talk to him. I'm patted on the back by a few Patriots for my "good work".

Connor walks up, on to the gallows. Charles Lee speaks, but I don't listen. I'm completely focused on Connor. If Stephane misses this shot, it's over. My heart drums against my ribs as Lee places the bag over Connor's head, and everyone goes silent.

Connor falls downwards and gives a loud whistle, and I see the arrow fly through the air, cutting the rope and saving Connor's neck from a very painful experience. The crowd roars in exhultation; they think Connor's dead.

I dodge through the crowd, seeing Connor and Achilles under the stage. Connor runs out, dodging people as he sprints towards Hickey. I pull out a throwing knife, just in case Connor can't reach him, but Connor leaps on him and they both fall to the ground.

Connor and I walk towards the carriage with Achilles. I lace my fingers through Connor's, and he gives my hand a squeeze. Benjamin promised us he'd get Connor's uniform back for us.

Connor and I enter the carriage, and Achilles goes to the front of it, leaving Connor and I alone. I sit down on the seat with a big sigh, and I close my eyes for a second, tired from the eventful day. I scoot over to Connor, who puts his arm around me tiredly. I wriggle closer into him, and look up at him.

"Are you alright?" I ask him, concerned. He looks fairly battered; he has rope burn around his neck, a black eye, a beautiful bruise blossoming where I hit him, and a cut next to his left eye. His shirt has blood all down the front.

"Don't worry about me." He says. "You hit hard." He adds as an afterthought.

I smile cheekily. "Sorry." I say, half laughing.

Connor isn't smiling. Something's wrong.

"What is it?" I say softly.

Connor sighs. I know he wants to say "nothing" but he knows I won't stop until I get an answer. "Hickey. He was… relatively innocent. He didn't care about the Templars, or the Assassins."

"And?" I ask, not seeing why he's upset.

Then something clicks. "You feel guilty." I realize.

Connor looks away, I can tell he's ashamed.

"Ratohnhnaké:ton. Look at me." I say gently, placing a hand on his cheek. "I wish I could be like you. You feel something when you kill someone. You wish it could be different. I… I don't feel anything. It's normal for me. It's wrong. Killing someone, taking a life… It shouldn't be something you get used to. I used to feel. But I just, kept on killing. For the Templars. At first, it felt like every time I killed someone a piece of my soul was taken from me. Now I don't feel anything." I confess, suddenly emotional. "So don't be ashamed, just because you feel bad about killing. Hold onto it, because if you don't you'll turn into a monster… like me."

Connor looks at me and places a hand on my cheek. "You're not a monster. You're a kind woman. You kill because it's nessecary. You don't go out killing because you feel like it. Whatever you have done, it has been for a reason."

I sigh, and lean on his chest, putting my feet up on the seat. "Thank you." I say quietly. I grab his hand and hold it while listening to Connor's heart beat. It's one of my favorite sounds. Connor and I doze on each other, and after a few hours while we arrive back at the homestead. A steaming hot dinner awaits us, courtesy of Achilles' arrangement with someone on our property. Connor wolfs down his dinner, like he hasn't eaten in days. I finish my dinner at the same time Connor finishes his third serving, and I laugh at him. Usually his manners are good, but tonight he eats like an animal. I can see Achilles dying a little inside as he watches Connor eat, but he lets him off, just this once.

After dinner, Connor changes his clothes into a shirt and trousers, and we sit in front of the fire. Connor and I fall asleep on the couch, wrapped in each other's arms.

And I am content.

**I really really hope you guys enjoy reading this chapter as much as I loved writing it! There's more fluff up ahead, but this isn't Twilight (if it ever is, please let me know so I can shoot myself). Connor and Clara will still have bad-ass fights and they aren't going to get married or anything. At least not in the next chapter. I'm not sure if I'll make their relationship develop that much, but I don't really know yet. If it feels right, I might do it, but again, I DON'T KNOW! (Maybe you should take, like, 5 seconds of your time and review, let me know if it's a good idea or not!)  
Remember, I'll only post after 5 more reviews!**

**Lots and lots of love, from Jenna!**

**P.S. my puppy was tramping back and forth across my keyboard while I was writing this, so if there are any typos I'm sorry!**


	21. Chapter 21

**Hello!  
This is going to be a pretty fluffy chapter. I just wanted to write fluff! And also thank you so much to the people who reviewed or followed or favourited my story, it means so much to me! I am becoming more confident in my writing, and it's all thanks to you guys, so keep all the support coming! I can't tell you how happy writing makes me, and when people like it, it's so great!  
Anyway, I really hope you like this chapter and I'll see you soon!**

CHAPTER 20

_Ratohnhnaké:ton ran through his burning village, his tiny legs carrying him as fast as they could. His head still hurt from when the men had hit him. _

"_Ista!" Ratohnhnaké:ton shouted, terrified. _

_Ratohnhnaké:ton ran into a hut, but was stopped by a flaming plank of wood. He lifted upwards with every ounce of strength he could, and then dodged underneath it. _

"_Ista!"_

_Ratohnhnaké:ton ran to his mother's hut. He could see her through a gap in the burning wood. "Ista!"_

"_In here…" She called back weakly._

"_I'm coming!"_

_Ratohnhnaké:ton ran around the hut, searching for a way in. One of the walls crashed to the ground, and Ratohnhnaké:ton ran inside. He saw his mother, pinned to the ground by a heavy wooden beam._

"_I am here. I am here. It is going to be fine." Ratohnhnaké:ton said to his mother, desperately trying to life the beam off his mother._

"_No, my son. You must leave. Now!" His mother said._

"_Not without you!"_

"_It's too late for that." Ratohnhnaké:ton's mother said sadly._

_She grasped his hand, then pushed it away. "You must be strong, Ratohnhnaké:ton. You must be brave." She said, her voice thick with emotion._

"_Stop! Stop it!" Ratohnhnaké:ton exclaimed. His mother couldn't say that. It broke his heart._

"_You will think yourself alone, but know that I will be at your side. Always and forever." His mother said, crying._

_Tears poured down Ratohnhnaké:ton's face. Suddenly he felt someone grab him from behind and drag him away, away from his mother._

"_No! Stop! Let me go! Let me save her!" He screamed, kicking and crying._

_As the man continued to drag Ratohnhnaké:ton away, his mother said her final words._

"_I love you." She said. The wood fell on top of her, and Ratohnhnaké:ton saw her burn._

"_ISTA!" He shouted._

"Ista!" Connor shouted. He thrashed around in his sleep, a sweat covering his forehead.

"Ratohnhnaké:ton, wake up!" Clara said loudly, trying to pin him down and failing. She put her hands on his cheeks, and Connor stopped thrashing as much. His eyes slowly opened, and he panted as if he'd just relived his mother's death. A single tear rolled down his cheek, making Connor embarrassed; he didn't want to cry in front of Clara.

"Are you alright?" Clara asked, concerned.

"…yes. I am fine." Connor replied, still shaken from his dream.

Clara lay down next to Connor, planting a kiss on his jaw. "It's okay." She said soothingly. "I am here."

Connor sighed, and put an arm around the girl next to him.

"Clara… why did you become like me? An Assassin? We could both die, at any moment."

"I was a Templar for years. I did so many bad things… I guess I just wanted to make up for it. As for us dying… As long as we're together." Clara said, resting her head on Connor's chest. Connor kissed her head, taking her hand in his and falling asleep there, slipping into a world of dreams.

**~!~**

I wake up, unable to move. Connor's arms are locked around me tightly, making it impossible for me to answer the door. The moon shines faintly through the curtains.

"Ratohnhnaké:ton. Wake up." I say, nudging him.

He stirs, and tightens his arms, forcing a laugh out of me.

"Let go. I have to answer the door." I laugh.

Connor opens his eyes, and I give him a kiss. "Let me go." I say.

"No." He says.

I roll my eyes at him, and try to push myself off him. Unfortunately, Connor's stronger than a bear, so I have no hope of getting him off me. Eventually he takes pity on me and lets go, and I quickly comb through my hair, trying to look half presentable. I open the door and suddenly I have an odd, violent impulse towards the figure standing in front of me.

"Go away." I say, attempting to shut the door.

George blocks it, and sways slightly on the porch.

"You're… You're Clara." He says, slurring his words and giving an odd giggle at the end.

"Are you drunk?" I ask.

"No… 'Course not. I'm just handsome, and… ya know…" George trails off at the end and hiccups.

"George, leave now or I'll make you." I say angrily. I hear footsteps at the top of the stairs, but I raise a hand behind me. I want to deal with this myself.

"Oh, will ya?" George slurs.

"Yes. Now please leave."

George steps forward. "Let's get a bit rough, then, love!" He exclaims. He begins to unbutton his shirt, so I grab his hand and twist until I hear a loud crack in his wrist. I grab his shirt and haul him off the porch, and he lands at the bottom of the stairs.

"Why'd ya do that, love?" He asks sadly.

"Go away. Now!" I roar.

He staggers off, and I sincerely hope he falls off the cliff. I walk back upstairs, into Connor's bedroom. I sit down on the bed with an angry huff.

"Why do you court me?" I ask Connor, who stands in the doorframe.

"… I don't know how to explain." Connor says.

"Is it because of my face? Do you just like the way I look?" I ask.

"No! It is much more than that."

"So you're saying I'm ugly?"

"Clara, calm down. You're being illogical."

"Says the man who feels like crying every time someone dies."

Connor stands there, shocked. I'm so angry, I don't feel guilty.

"Why are you acting so childish?" He asks.

"I'm childish?" I ask incredulously.

"Yes!"

Our voices raise to a shout. "You think you're so mature-"

"And you don't?"

"You're so-"

"Childish?"

"You got it!"

I give a frustrated growl and storm out of the room. I enter my bedroom and change into my hunting clothes, taking my bow and arrows and heading out of the house. I run into the forest, not caring that I probably won't bag anything tonight.

As the hours wear on, my anger fades slightly and is replaced by guilt. I shouldn't have said those things to Connor. As the sun rises I head back to the house, feeling guilty. I enter the house, heading upstairs into my room. I fall onto the bed and lie there until the sun's risen, then I head downstairs again. Achilles is sitting in the living room, and as he sees me a curious expression takes his face.

"What happened last night?" He asks curiously.

"It doesn't matter." I say dismissively.

"Yes, it does. If you two are to work together as Assassins you can't be distracted by other thoughts. Now, you have until the end of the day to make up with the boy or you'll have to go on separate missions."

"But, Achilles-"

"No. You can't allow your pride to get in the way of your work."

I make a face, and head up to my room. Connor catches me in the hallway.

"Clara, I want to say something."

"So do I." I sigh. "Connor, I'm sorry about what I said last night. I was being childish. Can you forgive me?"

"I was childish too. It's not all your fault."

"But you have to understand I didn't mean anything I said last night." I assure him.

"Nor did I." Connor replies.

I walk towards him and he wraps his arms around me. I hug him back, and deep down I feel like everything is right again. Connor kisses the top of my head, and I sigh happily.

**Fluff! I just felt like Connor and Clara needed to have an argument because no couple in the history of the world has never had an argument. Even Twilight has arguments, although I'm not sure if they count because it's just Bella begging Edward to do her.  
I can't believe I just made a Twilight reference. Shoot me now, please.  
Anyway, remember it'll be 5 reviews before my next chapter!  
Love from Jenna!**


	22. Chapter 22

CHAPTER 21

Connor storms out of the house, with Achilles and I at his heels.

"Don't do this, Connor!" Achilles exclaims.

I run over to Connor and place a hand on his arm. He shakes me off, angry. "Then what would propose we do? Sit back and watch while the Templars take control?" Connor asks angrily. He turns around. "We are sworn to stop them? Or have you forgotten?"

"Assassins are meant to be quiet. Precise. We do not go announcing conspiracies from the rooftops to all who pass by." Achilles replies angrily.

"And who are you to lecture anyone? You locked yourself away in this crumbling heap and gave up on the Brotherhood entirely." Connor argues back.

"Connor!" I exclaim angrily.

"Since the day I arrived, you've done nothing but discourage me. And on the rare occasions you've chosen to help, you've done so little you may as well have done nothing at all." Connor spits.

"How dare you!" Achilles exclaims, glaring at Connor incredulously.

"Then tell me; on whose watch did the Brotherhood falter? Whose inaction allowed the Templar Order to grow so large that it now controls an entire nation?"

"Connor, stop!" I say loudly as he ties his sleeping mat onto his horse. The two idiots continue to shout at each other as though I don't even exist.

"If I sought to dissuade you, it was because you knew nothing! If I was reluctant to contribute, it was because you were naïve. A thousand times you would have died and taken God knows how many with you. Let me tell you something, Connor. Life is not a fairy tale and there are no happy endings." Achilles growls.

"No. Not when men like you are left in charge." Connor retaliates harshly. He mounts his horse, and Achilles looks stung. My jaw has dropped, and honestly I'm annoyed with both of them, the fools.

Achilles grabs on to the horse's reins. "In your haste to save the world, boy, take care you don't destroy it!" He says.

And with that, Connor rides off. I could probably catch up to him, if I wanted. I stand there, uncertain of whether or not to follow him.

"Go, child." Achilles says, putting a hand on my shoulder.

I sigh. "Very well." I reply. I run through the snow, which has fallen quite early this year, to the stables. I swing up onto my horse, racing after Connor. I catch up to him fairly soon. I know better than to talk to him when he's angry, so we ride in silence for a while. After a bit, Connor breaks the silence.

"Are you angry?" He asks.

"No. But you shouldn't fight with Achilles." I reply honestly.

"But he's wrong." Protests Connor.

"Maybe, but that man has given you everything. Trained you, fed you. Without him, where would you be today?" I ask. "When we get back home, you apologise to him."

Connor makes a face, and I laugh. We ride for a while more, heading further and further out into the wilderness. The snow is thicker here, making it harder for the horses to run. Eventually we arrive at a Patriot camp, and Connor and I find Washington standing at the top of a hill, overlooking the ground below. He looks concerned about something.

"Commander." Connor greets.

"Connor. Clara." Washington replies, looking slightly preoccupied.

"Any word on Lee?" Connor asks.

"Not yet. My apologies. I've been distracted." Washington looks up. "Supply caravans, meant for the camp have gone missing. I suspect treachery. A traitor names Benjamin Church, recently released from prison, has vanished as well. The two events are surely related."

"What were the charges?" I ask.

"He was caught sending letters to the Loyalists detailing our troop strength. He claimed it was a scare tactic, that we might avoid war. A poor lie." Washington replies.

"We will find Church for you." Connor says.

Washington looks at Connor and I. "Why? What reason have you to help?" He asks.

"Does it matter?" Connor asks.

Washington sighs. "As you wish. We've received reports of trouble along the southern road. Might be he's responsible. I suggest you begin your search there."

Connor nods. Washington walks off, and I begin to walk towards the forest. Connor follows me, and we fight our way through the thick snow that covers the ground. Once we enter the forest, the snow gets lighter, making it easier to travel. After a while searching, I spot a small building.

"Connor, look." I say quietly, pointing to the building. It looks abandoned; a perfect place to store stolen goods. Connor and I walk towards the building, and we enter it to see nothing but an empty room. I make a disappointed noise. Connor turns around to exit the building, and as I turn around I hear a loud thump. I see a man, heavily cloaked, jump on Connor and force him to the ground. I'm about to tackle the man when Connor says something.

"Father." He greets.

"Connor. Any last words?" The man asks. I realize with a jolt it's Haytham.

"Wait." Connor says.

"A poor choice." Haytham replies, raising his hand. He has a hidden blade, which puzzles me.

I leap on Haytham, tackling him to the ground before he can hurt Connor. I flick out my hidden blade and am just about to plunge it into Haytham when I see his face.

It's the man that saved me all those years ago.

In my moment of hesitation, Haytham rolls over so that he's on top of me. He holds his blade to my throat. Suddenly, he's wrenched off me and he and Connor pace in a circle.

"Come to check up on Church? Make sure he's stolen enough for your British brothers?" Connor asks angrily. I push myself up off the ground.

"Benjamin Church is no brother of mine. No more than the Redcoats or their idiot king." Haytham replies.

I still haven't quite gotten over the shock of seeing Haytham again, even though I suppose Connor should be more affected than I.

"I expected naivete. But this… The Templars do not fight for the crown. We seek the same as you, boy! Freedom. Justice. Independence." Haytham says.

"But-"

"But what? Hmm?"

"Johnson. Pitcairn. Hickey. They sought to steal land. To sack towns. To murder George Washington." Connor points out strongly.

"Johnson sought to own the land that we might keep it safe. Pitcairn aimed to encourage diplomacy – which you cocked up thoroughly enough to start a god-damned war! And Hickey? George Washington is a wretched leader. He's lost nearly every battle in which he's taken part. The man's wracked with uncertainty and insecurity. Only look at Valley Forge to know my words are true. We're all better off without him." Haytham replies. "Look – as much as I'd love to spar with you, Benjamin Church's mouth is as big as his ego. You clearly want the supplies he's stolen, I want him punished. Our interests are aligned."

Connor looks at me, and I shrug my shoulders in a 'Why not?' sort of why.

"What do you propose?" Connor asks.

"A truce. Perhaps… perhaps some time together might do us some good. You are my son, after all, and might still be saved from your ignorance." Haytham replies bluntly. He holds up his blade. "I could kill you now, if you prefer?"

Connor nods.

"Excellent! Shall we be off?" Haytham asks, walking out the door,

"Do you even know where Benjamin Church has gone?" I ask, walking over to Connor. Haytham stops.

"I'm afraid not. I'd hoped to ambush him when he or one of his men returned here – It seems I'm too late. They've come and cleared the place out."

"I may be able to track him." Connor says confidently.

We walk outside.

"Who are you?" Haytham asks me.

"I'm Clara." I reply shortly.

Haytham stays silent for a second and stares at me.

"Yes?" I ask, wondering why he's staring.

"It's nothing." He replies, looking away. I catch up to Connor and my hand touches his, but he pulls his hand away. I'm not offended; his father is watching us. Connor sees some damaged goods, left in the snow, and crouches to better see them.

"There was a wagon here, slowly weighed down as they loaded the goods." Connor says.

Honestly, I'm impressed. Connor's always been good at tracking, but he can piece together clues extremely well. We walk along the road and Connor crouches down again.

"The snow has obscured the tracks, but enough remains that we can still follow." He says.

Haytham and I continue to follow Connor as he follows the wagon tracks. After a few minutes, we come across the wagon. There's a man crouching beside it.

"Just my luck. Going to freeze to death if I don't get this fixed." He mutters.

Connor begins to walk towards him, but I put my hand on his chest. I can tell Connor's not exactly going to be subtle now, and the man will run off. I walk forwards silently, pulling down my hood as I go. The man stands up and turns around, getting a fright as I appear behind him. I smile charmingly at him.

"Hello." I smile. I'm about to make my next move but I hear Connor move behind me, and the man runs off. Connor chases after him, and I roll my eyes at Haytham.

"Well played." He says.

Haytham and I run after Connor, and I see him holding the man against a tree.

"It was not wise to run." Connor says threateningly.

"W-What do you want?" The man stutters.

"Where is Benjamin Church?" Connor asks.

"I don't know. We was riding for a camp just north of here. It's where we normally unload the cargo. Maybe you'll find him th-"

The man is cut off as Haytham blows a hole in his head. Connor stumbles back, taken by surprise, rubbing his ear.

"Enough of that." Haytham says nonchalantly.

"You did not have to kill him." Connor says, angry.

"Let's not waste time with this pointless banter. Go catch up with the rest of Church's men. Infiltrate that camp of theirs and see what you can discover." Haytham says, turning around.

"What about you?" Questions Connor warily.

"Never you mind." Haytham says, irritated. "Just do as I ask."

Connor walks over to me quickly.

"Do as he says; for now." I say quietly, so that Haytham can't hear us. "He may be your father, but he's a Templar as well. I'll go back to Achilles and let him know what's happened." I say. Connor nods and turns around.

"Hey." I call. "Be careful."

Connor gives me a small smile and runs off, into the snow-covered forest. I begin to run off as well, in the other direction, but Haytham stops me.

"Tell me more about Connor. He is my son, after all." Haytham says.

I hesitate, then decide to tell Haytham one thing. "He can defend himself. Well." I say with a snide smile.

"You don't trust me." Haytham accuses.

"No, I don't." I reply.

And with that I run off, into the wilderness, leaving Haytham standing in the snow with an amused expression on his face.

**Hey guys!  
Thanks so much for reading this chapter of Rain! And thanks so much to the people who reviewed, favorited or followed my story, it means a lot more than you think and it really inspires me to write more! See you after 5 reviews!  
Love from Jenna. ;)**


	23. Chapter 23

CHAPTER 22

Connor crouched in the bushes, waiting for the two men to walk past him, listening to the river that ran beside him. He sprinted to behind a small tower of boxes, silently killing the man behind it. As always, Connor felt a powerful sense of guilt at the unnecessary death, but he pushed it aside. For now, he had a job to do.

Connor tailed the two men, listening to their conversation. They soon arrived at an abandoned shack next to the river. Suddenly, a voice sounded out over the camp.

"Look what we found." A man said.

Connor turned around to find his father being dragged by two men. He wasn't sure how he felt about his father; it was a confused subject.

"He was creepin' round the camp, all suspicious-like." The man said. "Must be a Yank spy!"

One of the two men at the shack walked forwards.

"No, he's something else. Something special. Isn't that right, Haytham?" He asked, bending down to Connor's father. "Church told me all about you."

"Then you should know better than this." Haytham replied.

The man punched Haytham in his jaw.

"You're not really in a position to be making threats are ya?" He asked.

Haytham's eyes moved over to Connor, who he could see crouching in the bushes, hidden. "Not yet." He said.

Haytham was dragged over to the shack where the men started to punch him. Connor snuck out from the bushes and killed one of the men. Together, he and Haytham killed all three of them, but then at least ten more ran at them from the camp.

"When you've dealt with these louts here, meet me in New York." Haytham said while slitting a mercenary's throat.

Connor replied with an apparently stupid question, as Haytham replied; "If you can't handle a few mercenaries, then we've really no business working together."

"Unbelievable…" Connor said.

Finally, the mercenaries were dead, and Connor turned around, expecting to see his father. He was greeted by a few corpses, but not Haytham. He'd run off halfway through the fight.

**~!~**

I sit close to the fire, welcoming it's warmth. I hear a horse galloping, and I look out and see Connor walking towards the house. He opens the door and heads into the living room as well, sitting down next to me.

"What happened?" I ask him.

"I'm to meet Haytham in New York." Connor replies.

"_We're _to meet him." I correct.

Connor rolls his eyes at me. I move closer to him, leaning against his thick frame. I look up at him, kissing him tenderly. He wraps his arms around my waist, and I snake my arms around his neck. We fall to the side, onto the floor. The fire heats one side of my body, and I smile, completely happy.

"I love you." I whisper to him. I can feel him smile, and in response he kisses me again, holding me closer.

"Konnorónhkwa." He says.

"What?" I ask softly.

"I love you." He clarifies. I chuckle softly, kissing him again. We lie there for a long time, just enjoying each other's company. I rest my head against Connor's chest, closing my eyes. He strokes my hair softly. We kiss once again, but then I hear a noise.

"Hey!" Achilles excliams from the doorway. I look up, blushing heavily. I can sense Connor's humiliation. "If you're gonna do that, do it somewhere else."

I smile, blushing and embarrassed. Connor and I stand up, and Achilles sits down on the couch. Connor exits the room, and before I follow him I look at Achilles, who chuckles at me. I follow Connor to the stairs, leaning against the railing.

"So… You've met Haytham." I say. "Do you trust him?"

"No. The man is a Templar." Connor replies.

"He is also your father. Just… try to be civil." I say.

"Civil? He killed a man without a thought. As though his life meant nothing." Connor protests.

"I know." I reply. I give him a small kiss, on his jaw.

**~!~**

Connor and I walk through the streets of New York, our hands touching. It still feels like I'm riding a horse, and I think wishfully of my bed at the homestead. I remember last night, when Achilles caught Connor and I. Connor still hasn't apologized to Achilles. The moon above casts shadows on the ground, making everything ghostly white. Connor and I walk past the harbor, and then I hear a voice.

"Evening Connor, Clara." Haytham says. Connor and I turn to face him.

"I see you made it here in one piece." Haytham comments.

"Recovered from your beating, then?" Connor scoffs.

Haytham narrows his eyes at Connor. "Benjamin Church is holed up in an abandoned brewery on the waterfront. We should be done with this by sunrise."

"Good. I would like to have those supplies returned as soon as possible." Connor says.

"Of course. I wouldn't want to keep you from your lost cause." Haytham replies arrogantly. "Come along, then. Follow me."

We follow Haytham over the rooftops for a while. Finally, Connor breaks the silence as we stop and look out over the waterfront.

"Tell me something…" Connor says.

"Hmm?" Haytham asks.

"You could have killed me when we first met. What stayed your hand?" Connor asks.

"Curiosity. Any other questions?" Haytham replies rudely.

Connor hesitates. "What is it the Templars truly seek?" He asks.

Haytham turns to face Connor. "Order. Purpose. Direction. No more than that. It's your lot that means to confound with this nonsense talk of freedom. Time was the Assassins possessed a far more sensible goal, that of peace."

"Freedom is peace." I say strongly.

"Oh, no." Haytham corrects. "It is an invitation to chaos. Only look at this little revolution your friends have started. I have stood before the Continental Congress and listened to them stamp and shout. All in the name of liberty. But it is just noise."

"And this is why you favor Lee?" Connor asks, slightly frustrated.

"He understands the needs of this would-be nation far more than the jobbernowls who profess to represent it." Haytham replies angrily.

Connor smirks. "It seems your tongue has tasted sour grapes. The people have made their choice – it was Washington."

"The people chose nothing. It was done by a group of privileged cowards seeking only to enrich themselves." Haytham's voice raises. "They convened in private and made a decision that would benefit them! Oh, they might have dressed it up with pretty words, but that does not make it true. The only difference, Connor – the _only _difference between myself and those you aid – is that I do not feign affection." Haytham growls.

Connor looks like he's about to throw Haytham off the roof, so I put a restraining hand on his arm. Haytham turns around and continues to leap over the rooftops. We end up in an alleyway near the warehouse. I'm about to walk on to the street, but Haytham raises his arm, stopping me from continuing on.

"Hold a moment." He says. He looks to the front of the warehouse, which is blocked by guards. "Church, you clever bastard. Excuse my language." He adds, looking at me. I make a face at him.

"What is it?" Connor asks.

"I was hoping I could wave you past the guards, but he's replaced most of them with men I don't know. Hmm. Well, I should be able to pass without arousing suspicion, but you…" Haytham says. He begins to walk onto the street, but Connor grabs his arm.

"No." He says. "We do this together or not at all."

"Then what do you propose?" Haytham asks.

"I will find a guard who is off duty and take his uniform." Connor replies.

"Very well. We will wait here, then." Haytham says, sitting down on a crate. I don't particularly like the prospect of being alone with Haytham, but I suppose it can't be avoided.

"Of course you will." Connor replies.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Would you like me to come along and hold your hand, perhaps? Provide kind words of encouragement?" Haytham asks sarcastically.

Connor glares at him before running out of the alleyway. I run off into a garden and steal a set of clothes from a clothesline, stashing my uniform safely away. I take a small knife and use a piece of fabric to tie it to my upper leg, returning to Haytham quickly.

"So… How did you come to be an Assassin, Clara?" Haytham asks as I sit down opposite him.

"I don't really think you need to know." I reply.

"Oh, but I do. You see, Charles Lee told me all about you. How you betrayed us." Haytham replies.

"I didn't betray anyone." I reply angrily. "I was forced to join. I had a knife held to my throat. _That _is why I support the Assassins."

"Hmph." Haytham says.

After a while, he breaks the silence again. "You seem… close to Connor." He comments.

I roll my eyes.

"Well, tell me more. How serious is it?" He asks.

"Serious enough that if you do anything to him, you'll be dead in a second." I warn him viciously. Haytham just laughs.

"Why don't you trust me?" He asks.

"Because you're a Templar. Connor may be more trusting, because he's naïve and foolish, but I have a brain inside my head, and it tells me you're not to be trusted." I say.

"Clara, please. You know better than anyone that the Templars and Assassins share the same goals."

"In the long run, yes. But the way the Templars think peace should be achieved is wrong. The people need to decide for themselves, for if peace is thrust upon them it's not really peace at all." I say, secretly impressed at how smart I sounded. Haytham stays silent.

After a few more minutes, Connor returns from his exploit, dressed in a guard's uniform.

"That should suffice. Follow me." Haytham says, exiting the alleyway. We approach the gates, and a guard stops us.

"Hold, strangers! You tread on private property. What business have you here?" He asks.

"The Father of Understanding guides us." Haytham says.

"You, I recognize. Not the savage." The guard says. I feel a moment of anger, but I hold it in.

"He is my son." Haytham says. I feel Connor's surprise.

"Tasted the forest's fruits, have ya? And who's this?" Asks the guard, motioning towards me.

"A like-minded friend." Haytham replies.

The guard sighs. "Off you go, then." He says, opening the gate. Connor, Haytham and I all enter the warehouse and walk through a large, deserted corridor. We round a corner and come face to face with a large door.

"It's locked. Give me a second." Haytham says, putting a hand inside his jacket. Connor leans against the door, as do I.

"Must be strange for you, discovering of my existence as you have." Connor says snidely. I elbow him in the ribs.

"I'm actually curious to know what your mother might have said about me." Haytham says. I don't think Connor's going to like this conversation much. "I always wondered what life might have been like had she and I stayed together. How is she, by the way?"

Haytham doesn't know?

"Dead. Murdered." Connor says. I can hear the emotion in his voice, so I weave my fingers through his. He gives my hand a squeeze.

"What?" Haytham says, shocked. "I am sorry to hear that." He sounds genuinely sad.

Connor steps forward, suddenly angry. "Oh, you're sorry? I found my mother burning alive. I'll never forget her face as she sent me away. Charles Lee is responsible for her death by _your _order. And you're sorry?" Connor asks sarcastically. I grab his hand again, trying to calm him down a bit. He relaxes slightly at my touch.

"That's impossible. I gave no such order. I spoke the opposite, in fact. I told them to give up the search for the Precursor Site. We were to focus on more practical pursuits-"

Connor interrupts Haytham, shoving him in the chest. "It is done. And I am all out of forgiveness." He says, walking through the door. Haytham looks at me pleadingly, but I ignore him and walk in after Connor.

**Hey guys!  
Thanks again to all those who favourited, followed and reviewed!  
See you after 5 more reviews!**


	24. Chapter 24

CHAPTER 23

"Where is Church?" Connor asks threateningly, crouching over the last of the men sent to kill us by Church.

"I'll tell you. Anything you want. Only promise that you let me live." The man cries. I roll my eyes – I can't stand pathetic begging like this.

Connor lets the man stand. "You have my word." He says.

"He left yesterday for Martinique. Took passage on a trading sloop called the Welcome. Loaded half its hold with the supplies he stole from the Patriots. That's all I know, I swear." The man says desperately. Haytham stands behind him and suddenly shoves his knife deep into the man's back. My eyes widen – Haytham can be quite… sinister.

"You promised…" The man says quietly. They are his last words.

"And he kept his word." Haytham says. Connor just stands there, looking furious at Haytham. "Let's go." Haytham says.

I see three guards appear on an upper level of the brewery. "Look!" I exclaim, shoving Connor and Haytham to the floor. The guards swing their guns to the huge barrels next to us and shoot, and suddenly the whole place is alight with fire. We all stand up as the guards run out of the room.

"We need to get out of here." Connor says loudly over the flames.

"You don't say…" Haytham replies.

We begin to run through the brewery, dodging falling wooden beams and avoiding the fire at all costs. Suddenly I hear a cracking, and above I see a huge wooden beam fall to the floor. I shove Haytham forwards, out of danger, then I hit the floor. The beam lands in front of me, separating me from the other two.

"Clara!" Connor shouts.

"I'm fine! You two go! I'll find another way out!" I shout back. Connor hesitates for a second.

"Konnorónhkwa!" Shouts Connor. I nod, and Connor runs off, Haytham on his heels. I spin around, looking for some other way out. I can see a small gap between the flames, quickly disappearing, so I run for it, diving through just before the flames consume me. The bottom of my skirt catches on fire, so I rip the bottom half of it off before I get burnt. Now, the skirt ends above my knees.

I keep running, retracing my steps. But no matter where I run, I can't find anywhere to get out of here. Suddenly, I have an idea.

It's stupid. Crazy. I'm probably going to die trying it.

But I'll definitely die if I stay here.

So I run through the flames, the extreme heat, and through a window, out into the water. My whole body sears with pain, and when I emerge from the water, coughing and sputtering, I feel most of my skin begin to register the pain. My whole body feels as if it's still on fire.

I know that if you get a burn, you're supposed to cool off the burnt area. So I float around in the water for a while, trying to cool off my body. The most burnt area is my legs, the rest of my body is okay, so when my legs stop burning I exit the water and try to find Connor. My legs begin to hurt again, but I ignore it. I go back to the garden where I hid my uniform, and I put it on again. I wander to the docks, and then I see him.

Connor.

My heart flies as I see him standing there, apparently arguing with his father. I don't care; all I know is that I have to close the distance between us. I begin to run towards Connor, my smile widening with each step I take.

"Connor!" I shout. He turns around and as he sees me a smile of relief splits his face. I reach him and he wraps his arms around my neck, squeezing me tight. I place a kiss on his jaw, and he plants one on my lips. Haytham clears his throat loudly behind us, and we part quickly, although reluctantly.

**~!~**

The ship beneath me rocks violently as another cannonball hits it. I'm standing next to Connor, who steers the ship. I'm secretly terrified – I hate the ocean. None of my memories of it are fond ones, and this particular experience is no different.

Suddenly, Connor is pushed aside by his father.

"What are you doing?" Exclaims Connor.

"Ending this!" Growls Haytham as he steers the _Aquila _into the other ship. We collide with a loud crash. As the ships skid alongside each other, Haytham leaps onto the deck of the other ship, sword in hand.

"Secure the ships!" Connor roars.

Connor and I, along with about half the crew, jump onto the next ship, our swords at the ready.

And we attack.

A soldier comes at me, his sword raised high. He strikes downwards, and I push back at him, throwing his sword off me. We perform a complex dance of swordplay, twirling the metal to and fro. Eventually, the soldier makes a mistake and I seize my chance, plunging my sword through his chest. He falls to my feet.

The next soldier comes at me, and again we spar before I kill him. Each sword that comes my way is just a twig, a harmless object in the way of my target. My attacks become faster, stronger as I take down more and more sailors, as if each one that falls replenishes my strength.

Then it stops. I stand there, panting, waiting for the next attack, but it doesn't come. I look at my feet and see the ground in front of them littered with bodies.

I put away my sword, still activated from the fight. A sailor kicks open a cabin door, and Connor and I enter. We walk down the stairs, and find the cargo hold completely deserted.

"Empty… What has Church done with the cargo?" Connor asks quietly.

"I don't know." I whisper back.

I can hear Haytham's voice coming from somewhere towards the back of the ship. He sounds angry. Very angry. Connor and I enter a room, where Haytham is crouching over Benjamin Church, punching him in the face.

"…we had a dream, Benjamin! A dream which you sought to destroy!" Haytham shouts, punching him again.

"Enough!" I shout. "We came here for a reason." I say in a calmer tone.

"Different reasons, it seems." Haytham growls, punching Church one final time before getting up and walking away. Connor approaches Church.

"Where are the supplies you stole?" Connor asks.

Church looks at Connor with a scathing glare. "Go to hell." He spits.

Haytham and I exit the room. I know Connor wouldn't want me to be around for what he's going to do now.

"We've met before, haven't we?" Haytham asks. "You were only a child. Your house was on fire. I saved you and your sister, but she died."

"That's right." I reply. I don't want to talk about this.

"I'm sorry I couldn't save her." Haytham says. He seems honest.

I sigh. "Thank you. I… I am glad my sister didn't die alone." I say.

Connor comes out of the room.

"Well done. You did well. His passing was a boon for all of us." Haytham says, putting a hand on Connor's shoulder. "Come on. I expect you'll want my help retrieving everything from the island?"

**~!~**

Achilles sat in a chair, writing a letter. He looked up as he saw Connor standing at the door. Even though he was still annoyed at the foolish boy, he couldn't help but feel some affection as well – he thought of Connor as a son.

"Welcome back. And how was Martinique?" Achilles asked.

"Achilles, I… I owe you an apology…" Connor started. Achilles waved his hand, but Connor continued on. "It was wrong of me to say the things I did…"

"Your words were harsh, Connor. But there was truth there as well. I failed the Order. Allowed the Templars to take control." Achilles admitted.

"But now their hold is weakened." Connor said eagerly, stepping forward. Achilles chuckled internally at the boy's naïve enthusiasm. "It makes me believe there is a chance for peace. Imagine what might be accomplished if we were to unite."

"Why the change of heart? Where is this coming from?" Achilles asked. "You've met your father, haven't you?"

**5 reviews until next chapter!  
And thanks to all those who reviewed, favorited or followed! It really inspires me to keep writing!**


	25. Chapter 25

Hey, guys! This isn't a chapter, so I'm sorry if you're disappointed.

I just wanted to say thank you so much!  
I was looking around and I could tell a thrilling tale of romance, adventure and 30 ninjas but I'll get to the point:

Rain is now on the first page for the Romance, Connor K filter thingy for favorites, follows and reviews! I can't tell you how happy this makes me! I am so grateful to you guys because without you I wouldn't be writing! I know I've said it a lot, but I'll say it again. This whole thing is thanks to you guys! So thank you, and I'll see you guys in the next chapter of Rain! Here's a little preview:

* * *

I sneak up behind a native and put my arm around his neck, squeezing tightly until he passes out. I repeat this twice, but then I hear Connor's voice, talking with someone. I climb up into a tree and follow his voice, reaching a clearing. Connor stands with his hands out, facing Kanentó:kon, who also has a dagger held out.

They turn in a circle. Connor appears to be pleading with his friend, but then Kanentó:kon swings his dagger at him, giving Connor hardly any time to dodge. Kanentó:kon runs at Connor, his dagger held high, and Connor blocks him. They fall to the ground, Connor pushing up against the knife held so close to him. I jump out of the tree, and I see Kanentó:kon throw the knife aside and close his fingers around Connor's neck. In the time it takes me to reach the two men Connor has almost stopped struggling, weak and out of air. I tackle Kanentó:kon, and we both roll over the forest floor. I scramble to my feet and see Kanentó:kon lying next to me. I grab his head and punch him as hard as I can, and he falls unconscious.

I turn around to see Connor's eyes closed. His chest rises and falls slowly.

"Ratohnhnaké:ton! Wake up!" I exclaim, putting my hands on his chest. He doesn't respond, but after a few seconds he coughs loudly, his breath labored.

"Are you alright?" I ask him.

Connor nods, grimacing at his sore throat, and coughs once again. He looks over at his childhood friend.

"Is he…?" Connor rasps.

* * *

I hope you guys liked that, and I'll see you guys in the next chapter!

I love you! From Jenna!


	26. Chapter 26

CHAPTER 24

Connor and I walk alongside Haytham, out feet splashing in the mud.

"We should be sharing what we know with Lee, not Washington." Haytham grumbles.

"You seem to think I favor him. But my enemy is a notion, not a nation. It is wrong to compel obedience – whether to the British Crown or the Templar Cross. And in time I hope the Loyalists will see this too, for they are also victims." Connor says strongly.

"You oppose tyranny. Injustice. These are just symptoms. The true cause is human weakness." Haytham begins.

I tune out their conversation. I'm sick of Connor and Haytham's constant bickering – they never stop.

Connor storms off angrily, and I follow him. Connor approaches Washington's tent, who is leaning over a letter.

"Sir." Connor says.

"Hello, Connor. What brings you here?" Washington greets. Of course, don't worry about me. Don't even acknowledge me. I don't really matter; I'm just a woman.

"The British have recalled their men in Philadelphia. They march for New York." Connor says.

"Very well. I'll move our forces to Monmouth. If we can rout them, we'll have finally turned the tide." Washington replies.

I look over at Haytham, who is reading the letter Washington had a few moments ago.

"And what's this?" Haytham asks, holding the letter up.

Washington turns around. "Private correspondence!" He exclaims, leaping for the letter.

"Of course it is. Would you like to know what it says, Connor? Clara?" Haytham asks.

"It seems your good friend here has just ordered an attack on Connor's village. Although attack might be putting it mildly." Haytham says. "Tell him, Commander."

I can feel Connor's surprise. Then he feels shock. Last of all he feels anger, but I can feel disappointment in there as well.

"We've received reports of allied natives working with the British. I've asked my men to put a stop to it." Washington says.

"By burning their villages and salting the land. By calling for their extermnination, according to this letter." Haytham counters.

I flick out my hidden blade, wary of the situation. This won't end well for Washington or Haytham. I feel almost as upset as Connor.

"Not the first time, either. Tell him what you did fourteen years ago." Haytham says.

Connor stares at Washington.

"That was another time. The Seven Years War." Washington defends.

I don't need to hear any more. I focus on Connor. He's not going to react well to this, and I need to keep him from doing something drastic. He paces back and forth, finally raising his voice.

"Enough!" He shouts. "Who did what and why must wait. My people come first."

"Then let's be off." Haytham says.

"No. You and I are finished." Connor growls.

"Son…" Haytham says.

"Do you think me so soft that by calling me son I might change my mind? How long did you sit on this information? Or am I to believe you discovered it now? My mother's blood may stain another's hands, but Charles Lee is still a monster, and all he does, he does by your command."

Connor touches my hand, and we begin to walk off. Washington and Haytham begin to follow us, but Connor turns around.

"A warning to you both – choose to follow or oppose us, and we will kill you." Connor growls. We run off, and Connor mounts a horse. I look around for another one, but Connor takes my hand and pulls me up onto the horse with him. We gallop off into the forest, our hearts beating fast. I can't believe what's just happened. It's hard enough for me to process; I can't even begin to imagine how Connor's feeling now. He doesn't really deal with betrayal that well – I learned that the hard way.

After a few minutes, Connor and I see the first group of Patriots. I leap off the horse and onto one of theirs, killing the rider and taking his horse as my own. The other two riders fall in seconds, and Connor and I keep going, fast into the wilderness. There is another rider, dangerously close to delivering his deadly message. Connor pulls out his gun and shoot him before he can get any closer to the Patriots. We leap off our horses.

"We need to make sure the village is safe." Connor says. He sprints off into the forest, and I follow him; curious to see his village. We soon arrive at a large wooden wall. Connor leads me inside and I see wooden huts everywhere. There are natives going about their business; unaware of the danger they were just in. Connor sees an old woman and runs over to her. She turns and sees him.

"Ratohnhnaké:ton!" She says, pleased to see him. They begin to talk in their native language, but then I hear the woman say Charles Lee and Connor's expression turns worried. He gets more distressed as they continue talking, and then turns to me.

"Charles Lee has taken some of our men to fight the Patriots. Kanentó:kon with them. We must stop them!" He says. We run out of the village, and then I see several figures creeping through the trees.

"Do _not _kill them." Connor says. I nod, and we both run off in different directions.

I sneak up behind a native and put my arm around his neck, squeezing tightly until he passes out. I repeat this twice, but then I hear Connor's voice, talking with someone. I climb up into a tree and follow his voice, reaching a clearing. Connor stands with his hands out, facing Kanentó:kon, who also has a dagger held out.

They turn in a circle. Connor appears to be pleading with his friend, but then Kanentó:kon swings his dagger at him, giving Connor hardly any time to dodge. Kanentó:kon runs at Connor, his dagger held high, and Connor blocks him. They fall to the ground, Connor pushing up against the knife held so close to him. I jump out of the tree, and I see Kanentó:kon throw the knife aside and close his fingers around Connor's neck. In the time it takes me to reach the two men Connor has almost stopped struggling, weak and out of air. I tackle Kanentó:kon, and we both roll over the forest floor. I scramble to my feet and see Kanentó:kon lying next to me. I grab his head and punch him as hard as I can, and he falls unconscious.

I turn around to see Connor's eyes closed. His chest rises and falls slowly.

"Ratohnhnaké:ton! Wake up!" I exclaim, putting my hands on his chest. He doesn't respond, but after a few seconds he coughs loudly, his breath labored.

"Are you alright?" I ask him.

Connor nods, grimacing at his sore throat, and coughs once again. He looks over at his childhood friend.

"Is he…?" Connor rasps.

"No. I couldn't do that. He's unconscious." I assure Connor.

He stands up and rubs his throat.

"Charles Lee rides for Monmouth. He plans to expose the Patriot's plans." Connor says. We run off into the wilderness again, finding our horses and riding for Monmouth.

**Thanks to all who reviewed or favorited or followed! I love you guys, cos you really inspire me to keep on writing! I'll see you after 5 reviews!**


	27. Chapter 27

CHAPTER 25

Connor and I stand in the basement, staring at the portraits of the five Templars. It's odd to think that three of them are dead by our hand. I hear footsteps on the stairs, and I turn around to see the apothecary standing at the foot of the staircase.

"Connor? Clara? He's asking for you." The apothecary says. Connor's hand brushes against mine, and we walk up the stairs. We reach Achilles' room, and Connor knocks on the door before we both walk in.

**~!~**

"Hello, Connor, Clara." Achilles said.

Connor walked over to Achilles' bed, pulling up a chair and sitting down. His heart was heavy. Clara sat next to him, on a different chair further from Achilles' bed.

"Come, now. Your sadness won't sustain me any more than that fool woman's soups and potions. Tell me of your latest exploits." Achilles said.

Connor sighed. "Charles Lee has been exposed and the Patriots finally rid of him. They march now to secure the remaining cities that this country might finally be free." He said.

"Then you have won. The land and your people are safe. Yet you seem troubled…"

"Washington spared Lee's life."

"So long as he lives, all are in danger." Achilles replied. "The same is true for your father."

Connor looked upset; he didn't want to kill his father. The man was arrogant, and infuriating, but he was still Connor's father.

"When you first came to me, you understood what had to be done. Swore you'd see it through. If not for the Brotherhood, for your people – and all those threatened by Templars."

"But with Lee gone, my father might-"

"Listen to me." Achilles said, grabbing Connor's arm. "You have not come this far to throw it all away over misplaced sentiment. Both men must die." Achilles looked at Clara. "The same goes for your parents." He said.

"Ach… Achilles…" Connor objected, his heart aching.

"There is nothing more to discuss." Achilles said. He rolled over, and Connor sat back in his seat. He opened his mouth to say something; he yearned to tell Achilles how he felt. But he couldn't.

**~!~**

I sit there silently, listening to the exchange between Connor and Achilles. I understand where they're both coming from, but I agree with Achilles. Haytham has to die.

As I think this, I feel guilty. He saved my life. But he's a Templar, and he has to die. So many people will suffer if we don't do this.

Connor and I exit the room.

"Connor! Clara! I came as soon as I could." Marquis De Lafayette says, stepping forwards.

"I trust you bring good news?" Connor asks.

"The Conte De Grasse said yes. You need only join his fleet in Chesapeake Bay and they will serve as required. But what exactly is it you intend?" Marquis says.

"It is better that we show you." I say, stepping forwards and leading bother men into the basement. Our plan is crazy, but Connor and I are confident it will work.

"Now, Charles Lee might have been dismissed, but it does not mean we are safe." I say, leading Marquis over to the diagram of Fort George.

"But the Commander-"

"Washington underestimates the threat Charles Lee represents. No more time can be wasted trying to convince him. We shall have to do this on our own." I say dismissively.

"Do what, exactly?" Marquis asks.

"Kill Charles Lee." Connor replies.

"He hides within Fort George, which is itself, surrounded by a militarized district. We cannot hope to infiltrate it directly," I say, motioning towards the diagram. "so we will go under instead."

Connor flips the diagram over to reveal a map of the tunnels that run underneath Fort George.

"Incroyable." Marquis says.

"The tunnels leading to the fort have been filled in. While I secure the Admiral's ships, I need you, your men and Clara to clear them for me." Connor says. I nod.

"And the ships?" Marquis asks.

"When signaled, they will bombard the fort-" I begin.

"Breaching it's walls and creating a distraction, I see!" Marquis exclaims.

"In the chaos, we will slip inside, find Charles Lee, and silence him forever." Connor says.

We exit the basement, and Marquis leaves.

"Ratohnhnaké:ton." I call. Connor turns around, and I walk up close to him. "We're probably going to be split up. During the attack. But I want you to promise me that if we are separated, we both keep looking for Lee. We can find each other after the battle. Killing that monster comes before either of us." I say.

"I promise. But you must promise me that you'll stay alive." Connor says.

I let out a small laugh. "I'll do my best."

"No. Promise." Connor says sternly.

I smile tenderly. "I promise."

Connor puts a hand on my cheek and bends down to kiss me. "Konnorónhkwa." He says.

"I love you too." I say.

**~!~**

"Lafayette promised me a fleet beyond compare, and a captain without peer! Instead, I find myself greeted by one old ship, a boy in costume and a girl who looks like she appeared out of a novel."

"I assure you, we are all you need, Admiral." I say strongly, as if daring the man to say otherwise.

"I doubt this very much, but beggars do not choose, hm?" The Admiral says. I roll my eyes at Connor.

"And the ships we require?" Connor asks.

"They are yours… provided we survive this."

"And what would you have us do?" I ask.

"Hold the bay while I engage the main fleet. Should any British ships dare approach, destroy them! They must be kept from Yorktown."

**~!~**

_Chesapeake Bay was easy compared to this._ I think as I dig. I fought for half the day yesterday, and Connor fought until the moon rose in the sky. I've been digging, along with Marquis and his men, for half the night.

My arms burn with exhaustion. Marquis, his men and I have been clearing the tunnel to Fort George for hours, and we're nearly finished. Suddenly, my shovel breaks through the dirt.

"We're through!" I shout, my arms receiving a new supply of energy. In a few moments, the last of the dirt is cleared away and the tunnel is clear.

"Marquis, get out with your men. I'll check if the tunnel is clear, but you need to get to safety." I say.

"Oui, madame." He says. He and his men hurry out of the tunnel, and I continue along it, holding the lone torch Marquis left me. As I run along, something suddenly collides with my skull and I fall to the ground, almost unconscious. As I look up, I see someone bending over me.

It's Haytham.

I try to crawl away, but Haytham's foot connects with my head and my eyes close over.

**~!~**

I wake up tied to a chair. My head aches like hell. I'm in a dark room, so dark I can barely see my hands. For some childish reason, I'm still afraid of the dark, although I keep my fear inside. Suddenly a door opens, directly in front of me, and a man steps inside.

"Well, Clara. Here we are." A man says.

"Hello, Father." I say mockingly.

"Don't use that tone with me." He snaps, and my cheek suddenly stings. As my vision improves, I can make out shapes in the darkness. Shelves, and my father walking in circles around me.

"Where is Charles Lee?" I growl.

"Far away from here." My father laughs. "Kenway's at Fort George, but I don't think you'll get anywhere near there."

I try to loosen the ropes that bind me, but I meet with little success.

"Now… Where is the other Assassin?" Father asks.

"What other Assassin?" I ask.

My father's hand smacks my cheek again. "Don't be a fool. Tell me; where is the savage?"

I take a deep breath. "Dead. He was killed in Chesapeake Bay." I lie. "It's just me. And I will kill Charles Lee for what he's done."

My father barks out a laugh. "Charles Lee is long gone. You'll never get him now."

"Try me."

Suddenly my chair is knocked to the floor and I hit the ground with a painful thump.

"Do you know what I've had to do to keep you alive?" Growls my father.

"I'm guessing nothing. You wouldn't bother if it took an ounce of effort." I reply snidely.

Suddenly something collides with my ribs. I cough, the wind rushing out of my lungs, and my father leaves the room.

**~!~**

Connor arrived in New York, tired out from the Chesapeake Bay battle. His thoughts were completely occupied on finding Charles Lee, but a small voice at the back of his mind focused on Clara.

He entered a garden and lifted up the trapdoor that lead to the tunnels. They ran all under New York, and Boston too. He entered the tunnels and began to make his way under New York. As he got closer to Fort George, he saw fresh blood on the ground. There were several drops that lead into another passage, but Connor ignored them; he had more important things to do.

**I really hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! Favorite it if you enjoyed, and follow to read more Rain! I'll see you guys after 5 reviews!**


	28. Chapter 28

**EDIT:  
Hey guys, I realized something was wrong with this chapter so I corrected it, and now it's a little longer and just better.  
Enjoy!**

CHAPTER 26

Connor continued along the New York Underground. He made his way to where he, Stephane and Marquis had agreed to meet, and found them talking in French. As he approached them, they stopped talking and turned to face him.

"Where is Clara?" Connor asked Marquis.

"I don't know. She went ahead to scout the tunnels, she must have found another way out." Marquis replied.

Connor nodded, not really happy with Marquis' explanation, but he remembered Clara's words.

_We're probably going to be split up. During the attack. But I want you to promise me that if we are separated, we both keep looking for Lee. We can find each other after the battle. Killing that monster comes before either of us._

"This tunnel will take you into the military district." Marquis said.

"And the Admiral?" Connor asked.

"He waits for you to light the signal – and then the strike begins!"

"And we will be there as well!" Stephane added.

Connor walked past the two men, into the tunnel. As he walked along, his thoughts became more and more distracted with Clara. He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the thoughts that plagued his mind; Clara was brave. Connor was confident she was unharmed.

**~!~**

A fist flies into my stomach with considerable force. My stomach feels as if it's clenched up so much it's the size of a walnut. My father steps back, into the shadows again.

"What… do you want?" I ask again, struggling to breathe.

"Tell us about the Assassins." My father says quietly.

"Go to hell." I hiss. My father steps back, and pulls back his fist.

"Wait!" I exclaim. I don't want to deal with the pain anymore. "I'll tell you about the Assassins. All of us." I say.

**~!~**

Connor ran over the rooftops of New York, heading towards the lighthouse. He was trying to remain undetected, if possible. He reached the lighthouse and climbed to the top. Connor took a torch off the wall and dropped it into the metal grill which contained the beginnings of a fire. Almost immediately, a large fire was lit within the metal container, and Connor looked out over the bay, seeing the fleet of ships floating inside the bay.

Then they began to fire.

New York was assaulted by cannonballs, destroying buildings. Connor leaped from the top of the lighthouse and into the haybale that was sitting next to it. He quickly jumped out, but then a cannonball whizzed past Connor and hit the building next to him. Connor was thrown backwards as pieces of debris assaulted him. His vision flashed red with pain.

_Need to get… inside the fort… _Connor thought to himself as he staggered through the streets. He passed through the door of an open house and suddenly was thrown to the ground again as another cannonball hit the wall beside him.

_I am in no condition… to fight… need to stay… away from the guards… _Connor thought, clutching his side. He spotted a small hole in the fort wall and squeezed through it. He staggered to the center of the courtyard.

"Where are you, Charles?" He called, leaning on a barrel.

"Gone." Said a voice.

It was Haytham.

**~!~**

"And there are more of you?" My father asks.

"Yes. Many more." I say, tensing up as another cannonball strikes somewhere near us.

"But only you and the savage have been seen."

"The others are still in training."

"Where are they training?" My father asked eagerly.

I stop talking. I try to act like I don't want to tell. I close my eyes, but that's a mistake. My father's fist flies into my face, and I grunt in pain. Under no circumstances will I allow myself to scream. I can feel blood dribble out of my nose. Another cannonball.

"They're outside New York!" I exclaim.

"Where, exactly?"

"The forest. We found a cave system to hide the new recruits in." I lie wildly. I hope my father doesn't see through it. I've fed him false information about the Assassins for the past hour, and I'm running out of ways to stall. A cannonball hits the ground again, this time closer.

Then a cannonball hits the building.

I'm thrown backwards, and the chair splinters as I hit the ground. Debris flies everywhere, scratching my face and hitting my flesh like needles stabbing me all over. I cover my head as I hear the wind rush past another cannonball. It hits the wall beside me and sends more debris my way. I curl up into a ball until all the debris stops flying, then I leap to my feet. My father lies, trapped underneath a wooden beam.

"Clara, help me!" He begs.

"No." I reply.

"Please! I'm your father! I'll die!" He screams. Coward.

"You're no father of mine, you bastard. For seventeen years, you hit me and crushed me, for no good reason." I say. And with that I slowly pull out my gun, so that my father can see his death coming. I slowly walk towards him, raising the gun, and he desperately tries to escape from the wooden beam that traps him.

And I shoot my father. Right between the eyes.

I remember when I told Connor that I don't feel anything when I kill.

But this time I do. I feel something.

Joy. Freedom. The one man that has kept me trapped all these years is finally dead.

**~!~**

Connor turned around to face his father.

Haytham ran at Connor and punched him, wrestled him to the ground, and slammed his elbow into the back of his son's head.

Connor's head split in two, but he ignored it and punched Haytham in his groin. A series of punches were thrown, back and forth, between father and son, but each one was blocked and countered; the two were evenly matched. Finally, Connor got ahold of his father's wrist and twisted it behind his back.

"Come now, you cannot hope to match me, Connor. For all your skills, you're still but a boy – with so much left to learn." Haytham said.

Connor shoved Haytham forward and flicked his hidden blade out. In the same second, he drove it into Haytham's forearm. Connor half fell to the ground; his injuries were severe.

"Give me Lee." Connor demanded.

"Impossible. He is the promise of a better future. The sheep need a shepherd." Haytham said.

Connor staggered to his feet, using a barrel for support. "He has been dismissed and censured. He can do nothing for you now."

"A temporary setback. He will be restored." Haytham replied, pulling out his sword.

Connor took out his tomahawk, and the fight began once more.

**~!~**

"You act as though you have some right to judge." Haytham said as they sparred a deadly fight. "To declare me and mine wrong for the world. And yet everything I've shown you, all I've said and done, should clearly demonstrate otherwise. We did not support the Crown!" Haytham growled.

Suddenly another cannonball hit the fort, and Connor and Haytham were thrown backwards. Connor and his father made their way towards each other weakly.

"Surrender, and I will spare you." Connor said with all the strength he could muster.

"Brave words from a man about to die." His father replied. Connor flicked out his hidden blade, but his father had more strength left and crawled on top of him, holding his son's arm out to the side.

"You fare no better than I." Connor told his father.

Haytham closed his fingers around Connor's neck tightly. "Even when your kind appears to triumph… still we rise again. And do you know why?" Haytham asked. "It's because the Order is born of a realization. We require no creed. No indoctrination by desperate old men. All we need is that the world be as it is. And this is why the Templars will never be destroyed!" Haytham exclaimed.

With the last of his strength, Connor flicked out his hidden blade and thrust it into his father's chest. Haytham staggered back and looked at his son.

**~!~**

"Do not think I have any intention of caressing your cheek and saying I was wrong." He said, putting a hand over his wound. "I'm sure you understand." Haytham said.

He could not help but feel some emotion, though. Unrecognizable. Haytham fell to his feet and then recognized the emotion. "Still, I'm proud of you in a way. You have shown great conviction. Strength. Courage. All noble qualities…" Haytham trailed off.

He wished he could have had more time with his son. Perhaps, if he had stayed with the woman he loved, things would have been different. Perhaps he and his son would have known each other more. It was something Haytham was ashamed to admit, but he was dying. He wouldn't have to live with shame for much longer.

Connor lay on the ground, barely breathing. Haytham felt… oddly guilty. He let out a small laugh. "I should have killed you long ago." He said.

The last of his strength had faded. Haytham slumped to the ground, and his last thoughts were of his son. Regret was one of the last emotions he felt.

Then his thoughts flew to the boy's mother, and he felt sadness, along with a great love.

_I am coming, my love. _Haytham thought.

And with that, he passed into the void.

"Goodbye, father." Connor said quietly. He slowly regained his strength and made his way out of Fort George; it was the main target of the cannons, and Connor knew he would die if he stayed any longer

**~!~**

I run up the wall of Fort George, ignoring the pain in my body. I jump the wall, and land in a destroyed courtyard. I can see a body in the center of it, and I pray it's not who I think it is.

I breathe a sigh of relief as I get closer and see that it's not Connor.

It's Haytham.

I make my way over to him, cautiously, and as I reach him I see a wound in the center of his chest. The man is dead.

It's odd. I feel a certain amount of sadness at his death, but also oddly happy. He was a Templar, but he also saved my life. He gave Alice hope in the last few moments of her life. I bend down over his body.

"Thank you." I say quietly. I close his eyes and walk off, further into Fort George.

Now I look for Connor.

**~!~**

Connor and I hurry out of Fort George. The Redcoats shoot at us, but no bullets hit us. It seems our luck has not run out.

Yet.

Connor was injured during the attack on New York. As far as I can tell, he has a few broken ribs, but I'm no doctor. He leans against me as we exit the military district, and enter the main streets of New York. People are scared, even though the cannonballs are restricted to Fort George. As the cannonballs continue to assault Fort George, I escort Connor through the streets. Guards run back and forth; complete chaos. People are yelling, children crying. All because of Connor and I.

Connor and I reach the docks. The _Aquila _waits for us, ready to set sail, and as we board a frenzy of sailors making the ship sea-worthy occurs. Captain Faulkner looks at me questioningly, seeing Connor and I injured.

"Take the wheel." I say loudly over the chaos. Faulkner nods, and Connor and I enter the captain's cabin.

"Clara, I can steer the ship." Connor says once we're inside.

"No. You're injured, don't be foolish. Captain Faulkner is a perfectly capable captain, hence his title." I say back. I help Connor sit down on a bench, and I open his uniform despite his surprised reaction.

His ribcage is a smattering of dark purple and blue. There are numerous cuts and bruises on his face and body, same as myself. Very gently, I touch Connor's ribs, and he lets out a wince.

"Those are broken." I say obviously.

I look around the cabin for something to use as a bandage, and I eventually find that the curtains do a nice job. I bind the strips around Connor's chest, and he looks like he's in less pain when I'm done.

"Are you alright?" Connor asks.

"I'm fine, don't worry about me." I say dismissively.

"What happened to you?" Connor asks.

I tell him how I was knocked unconscious by Haytham, and questioned by my father. I tell him how my father died.

"Konnorónhkwa." Connor says simply, pulling me in for a hug. I try not to touch his ribs, and as we part I sit down next to him.

"So, what happened to you?" I ask Connor.

**~!~**

Connor and I disembark the Aquila. Captain Faulkner retires to his cabin, and Connor and I make our way up the hill.

We reach the house and enter tiredly. Achilles sits near the fire, reading a book. My heart feels lighter, less worried; I was afraid his time was up. The old man was close to death when we left. He looks much improved now.

"How was Chesapeake Bay?" He asks.

I tell my side of the story first, and then Connor tells his.

"Charles is a tricky bastard." Achilles says. "But it is good that your fathers are dead, no matter what sentimentalities you may feel."

Connor and I return upstairs, and for some reason it just seems right that I follow Connor into his room. We both sit down on the bed, and I lean against Connor's shoulder. He wraps an arm around me.

"How are you?" I ask.

"Unharmed." Connor replies.

"No," I say, looking at him. "how are you?"

Connor stares at me for a second, confused, but then he understands. "I do not want to talk about it."

I give him an understanding smile. "Okay."

Connor kisses me, and I kiss back passionately.

"I kept my promise." I laugh quietly.

"What?" Connor mutters as he kisses my neck.

"I didn't die." I reply.

Connor looks into my eyes, amusement twinkling in his own. "Thank you."

"Happy to do it." I say.

Connor and I lay down against the bed. I try not to aggravate Connor's ribs too much, while at the same time undoing the top button of his uniform.

**I really hope you guys enjoyed that chapter and I'll see you after 5 reviews! Follow and favorite if you like my story that much! Every follow, favorite or review gives me more reason to keep writing, so be a lamb (you'll either get that or you won't) and give me a reason to write!**


	29. Chapter 29

CHAPTER 27

I crouch beside Connor, holding my bow at the ready. He says his ribs aren't sore anymore, but I doubt it. It's been four weeks since Chesapeake Bay.

The rabbit is fast, and if I miss this shot the hunt is off. Suddenly, a wave of nausea hits me and I turn to the side, putting both hands on the ground and breathing hard. I hear Connor shoot his bow before turning to me.

"Clara? Are you alright?" He asks, concerned.

I wait a second for the sickness to fade before replying. "…Yes. I'm fine." I reply. The nausea hits me again, not so severe as before but still enough to make me turn away again.

"You're sick." Connor says.

"Really?" I ask sarcastically. "I'm going to head back. You keep hunting."

"Are you sure?"

"I can walk, Ratohnhnaké:ton. I'll be fine." I say, standing up. I walk over to the rabbit and pick it up, pulling the arrow out of its body and returning it to Connor. With the rabbit dangling from my grasp, I head back towards the homestead. I can feel Connor's eyes on me, but I'm soon out of sight and I can see the red brick of the house. I put a hand on my stomach, leaning against a tree.

After a second, the sickness goes away and I walk inside, into the living room. I see Achilles sitting in a chair by the window, facing out towards the bay.

"Connor's still on the hunt." I say to him.

Achilles continues to stare out the window.

"Achilles? Did you hear me?" I ask.

Silence.

My heart quickens in fear. I approach the chair, where Achilles sits, a peaceful expression on his face. He isn't breathing.

"Achilles?" I ask quietly, putting a hand on the old man's shoulder. Foolishly, I think that maybe he's playing a joke on me, that he'll start laughing and stand up out of the chair and laugh at me.

But the old man stays in his chair.

I notice two pieces of paper in his hand. I pick them up, tears in my eyes, and see the writing on them. One says Connor, the other says Clara. I place Connor's note down on the table, and I open mine up, tears falling down my cheeks.

_Clara,  
If you are reading this, then I have not said goodbye as I may have wanted to. Still, I know neither of us are people of long goodbyes, so perhaps this is better.  
You are an extraordinary woman. Your bravery, cunning and loyalty have benefitted the Brotherhood immensely. Your bluntness has kept myself and the boy in line, and you have given me a new hope in this world, so for that I thank you.  
Tread carefully in regards to your relationship with Connor. Protect each other with your lives, for if the other dies you'll find life is hardly worth living anymore. Keep the boy in line, and good luck in your quest to kill Charles Lee. __I ask that you lay my bones to rest on the hill overlooking the water, there is no other place on this earth I'd rather be__.  
Yours in Brotherhood, Achilles._

I stare at the page, tears rolling down my face. I smile sadly through the tears as I read the letter again.

I wish we could have said goodbye in person. I could have told the old man how grateful I was to him.

I hear footsteps on the stairs outside, and I realize sadly that Connor has returned from the hunt. I sit down on the couch, and Connor enters the house. He looks into the living room and sees me sitting on the couch.

"Clara? Are you alright?" He asks.

I turn around to face him.

**~!~**

Connor saw Clara's face, tear-stained and grieving, and in his heart he knew what had happened. He saw the old man sitting in his chair, overlooking the bay and the note in his hand.

Connor walked over to Achilles quietly and saw his body, unmoving. Inside Connor felt as he had when his mother had died, but outside he remained expressionless. He took the note from Achilles' hand.

_Connor, if you are reading this, I have failed to say goodbye as I wanted, but the time never seemed appropriate. I leave this land and all of its resources to you. I trust you now know this place has become something of great significance. A community to serve as an example of what this would-be-nation could become. But the larger and stronger it grows, the more fragile and difficult to defend it becomes. I hope your friends who are birthing this infant country understand this truth. Your unwavering tenacity and honesty have burdened you with responsibility far greater than any one man should bear. But you, if anyone, are capable. You have given an old man hope that all is not lost, and for that I thank you. I ask that you lay my bones to rest on the hill overlooking the water, there is no other place on this earth I'd rather be. I am grateful to have met you, knowing you will guide this land and these people to a better future. Yours in brotherhood, Achilles._

Connor re-read the note from his mentor, feeling an inexpressible grief in his chest. It felt as though his heart was physically being squeezed and twisted by someone. A single tear broke through his mental defenses and rolled down his cheek. He turned towards Clara.

"Are you okay?" Clara asked tentatively, standing up and making her way over to Connor.

Connor nodded silently and Clara put her hand to his cheek, wiping away the tear that sat there. Connor pulled her in closer, immensely grateful to have her, and they stood there, holding each other and grieving for their old man.

**~!~**

"We should give Father Timothy the news." I say, my throat closing up. Connor nods again, so we head down to the chapel and enter the small but grand building. Father Timothy stands near the altar, and I wipe away the tears, trying to seem strong.

"What is it?" Father Timothy asks peacefully as he sees us approach him.

"Achilles has passed." Connor says.

The Father's expression changes. "I'm so sorry." He says.

"He passed peacefully and with dignity." Connor says.

"A service, then?" Father Timothy asks, putting a hand on Connor's shoulder.

"Yes. Please prepare something… appropriate. I will see the grave is dug. Can you gather everyone?" Connor asks.

"Of course." Father Timothy replies.

**~!~**

The rain falls heavily. Achilles' grave, freshly dug by Connor, lies at the top of the cliff, overlooking the bay, just as Achilles requested. Connor and I stand at the head of his grave, looking sullenly at the coffin that lies within.

"Prayer and sermon do not suit this occasion. Achilles was not a man of God. Not my God, at any rate. But he certainly believed in a guiding force. He is at peace now, and for that we can be grateful. We lay him to rest here, atop the bluff where he made his honorable and dignified life, so he can remain that comforting presence; The Old Man on the Hill, that we have all grown to depend on. You all had your own relationships with him, your own moments, and I implore you to return here when the time is right for you and share those stories with the waves and the trees. Achilles. You will be missed. But never forgotten. Go safely, old man. Safely where your soul need rest." Father Timothy says.

Everyone bends down and places a rose in Achilles' grave. Once everyone has left, Connor approaches the grave and places a white eagle's feather on top of the coffin.

"I will make you proud, old man." He says quietly.

Connor returns to the homestead, leaving me to stand at his grave alone.

I approach Achilles' grave and cross my arms. I don't know what to say. I've never had to do this before. When Alice died, my parents locked me up in my room for her funeral.

"Well… Here I am, old man." I say. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do, here. I'm certainly not going to bare my soul to a few trees and the water." I give a small, sad smile. "I guess I want to thank you. You've been a father to me, and Connor as well. You gave us hope. Neither of us are people of a God, or any sort of deity. We believe life is what we make of it." I swallow hard, forcing back the tear that threatens to break out. "We will kill Charles Lee. I swear it. Thank you, again."

With that, I bend down. Before the ceremony, I retrieved something I think Achilles would appreciate having. I retrieved his old Assassin uniform and his hidden blades. I place them in the old man's grave, and with that I walk back to the house.

**Hey guys.  
When I played the game and Achilles died, I was so sad! I mean, he was the most badass old guy I've ever met\played, or whatever! Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and... Leave a review! I'll see you guys after 5 of those little things that make my day!**


	30. Chapter 30

CHAPTER 28

It's been three weeks since Achilles' death. Connor and I still mourn him, but we face our mission with a renewed vigor, even more so determined to find Lee and make him pay for everything he's done.

Connor and I stand at opposite ends of the paddock between the house and the stables.

"Again!" Connor shouts.

We run at each other, swords drawn, and as we reach each other a fight breaks out. We strike and block, counter and swing but my speed and agility matches Connor's brute force. We continue to train until the sun goes down, and then we retire to the house, hungry and sweaty, and flop onto the couch. Prudence has cooked dinner for us; she's been coming to the house every night since Achilles' death to cook for us. A steaming hot bowl of stew awaits us at the dinner table, and we shovel it down, not even bothering to talk. We're too hungry. After dinner, Connor and I sit on the floor by the fire, leaning against each other.

"Konnorónhkwa." I say to Connor.

He looks at me, amused.

"I didn't say it right, did I?" I ask, smiling.

"You did not."

I plant a kiss on Connor's cheek, and we fall back onto the floor. I pull Connor's hood down, and he begins to unbutton my uniform. I can feel the heat of the fire on one side of my body. I remember when I first met Connor. He was quite intimidating, and I was ready to kill him. I'm certainly glad I didn't.

Connor kisses my neck, and I let out a soft moan. He chuckles softly, and I can't help but smile with him. We roll over, away from the fire, so that I lie on top of him. I look into Connor's eyes, and he pulls me closer.

**~!~**

_I wake up on an empty plane. I look up at the night sky and I see the stars are bright gold and they seem to light the sky like tiny candles hanging above me, contrasting against the inky blackness behind them. There are two golden moons in the center of the sky, and on the horizon a large planet with rings looks like it's about to set. I stand up in wonder. The grass around me grows to my waist and resembles wheat. It shimmers a gold colour as well. I hear a noise behind me and I spin around. I see a woman standing there, but she's unlike any other woman I've ever seen before._

_She wears a plain white dress and a veil. She almost looks like a bride, but there's something about her that's… alien._

"_Who are you?" I ask. "Where am I?"_

"_Who, where, how, when. Always questions." The woman replies dreamily. Her voice seems to echo. "I am Juno. This was my home." She says, casting a hand about the plane. "It does not matter."_

"_Wait… This _was _your home. What happened?" I ask._

_Suddenly, out of nowhere, a rock flies down and hits the ground beside me. It's transparent and flickers gold. Flickering gold dirt flies up from where it hits and then it disappears._

"_What do you want?" I ask Juno, secretly alarmed._

"_I do not want anything. Your kind always worries about these." Juno replies. She suddenly focuses on me. "You must focus on the problem at hand."_

"_What problem?" I ask._

_Suddenly an image is projected in front of me. A red circle with a dark spot in the middle._

"_What is this?" I ask._

_The dark spot grows. A circular lump grows on the top of it, and to the sides four sticks sprout out. The shape continues to grow and I realize what it is. The circle on top is growing eyes, a mouth, a nose, ears. The four sticks on the side of the shape are arms and legs. It's a child._

"…_Why are you showing me this? What is the problem you spoke of?" I demand._

"_The child inside of you. He grows every day." Juno replies._

_My jaw drops. "This… this is inside me? A child?" I whisper._

**~!~**

I wake up with a start. The morning sun shines on my back. Breathing hard, I sit up and rub my face, trying to rid myself of the dream. Connor's stopped snoring next to me.

"Are you alright?" He asks as he sits up.

"Yes. I just had a bad dream." I reply shakily.

"Clara, what is it?" Connor asks.

Suddenly I'm overwhelmed with nausea and I suddenly sprint outside. I make it to the grass just in time to have my dinner come up. Once I'm finished, I fall back onto my behind and take a big, shaky breath. I spit onto the grass beside me, trying to get the unpleasant taste out of my mouth.

"Clara?" Connor calls hesitantly from the doorway.

"Go away. I don't want you to see this." I call back. I don't hear Connor go inside, but he doesn't approach me either.

I'm completely overwhelmed. I can't be…

I mean, I knew this could happen. But I'm an Assassin! I can't have a child. I don't know what to do!

I hear footsteps behind me and Connor helps me stand up. We walk back into the house and I sit down on the couch.

"You're sick." Connor says worriedly.

"…No. No, I'm not." I say quietly.

"Then what is it? Talk to me, Clara." Connor implores.

I can't. How can I tell Connor? How do I even know this is real? It was probably just a dream.

But for some reason, I know it isn't a dream. I was taught about this when I was younger. The signs have been there, I just hadn't put them together.

"I-I don't know what to say." I reply. I tuck my legs up to my chest and hug my knees. Connor sits down next to me.

"Clara, _please_. Tell me what's going on!" Connor exclaims.

Suddenly I grab his hand and untangle my legs. I press his hand against my stomach, and Connor looks at me like I'm crazy.

"Clara, what is it? What are you trying to…" Then Connor realizes. He looks at me, completely in shock. "You're…" He says softly.

I nod.

Connor leans back against the couch and looks to the front. We sit in silence for a long time until a knock at the door sends us both jumping. I stand up and answer it.

"Hello." I greet. A messenger stands in the doorway.

"I have a message for Mr Kenway, from Mr Adams. He says Lee is in New York-" The messenger says. I cut him off.

"Thank you." I say, flipping him a coin. I enter the living room again.

"Did you hear?" I ask quickly.

"Yes. I'll leave at once." Connor says.

"_We'll _leave at once." I correct him.

"No. I am not letting you put yourself in danger like this. Especially not-" Connor says.

"I am coming." I say forcefully. I need to come – this is too important. "This child needs a father."

"And it needs a mother as well." Connor points out.

"Look, Connor. I am coming, and there's nothing you can do to stop me." I say strongly.

Connor knows he isn't going to win this argument, so we both hurry out the door and mount our horses.

**~!~**

Connor and I sneak through the alleyways of New York. We can hear Charles Lee speaking from the graveyard.

"We gather here today to remember a man of peerless vision, who sought to change the world. And change the world he did." Lee says.

I tune out his voice, concentrating solely on getting to Charles. He continues to speak, and Connor and I arrive at the back of the graveyard, where a crowd of people have amassed to farewell Haytham Kenway. We almost make it to Lee, but then a guard spots us and four of them leap forwards, grabbing Connor and I by our arms and dragging us forwards to Charles. When we reach them, Charles nods to one of the guards holding Connor and he slams the butt of his gun into Connor's lower back, causing Connor to fall to his knees. Connor lets out a painful groan, and I struggle fiercely against the guards holding me. They force me to my knees as well.

"He sent me away… That day at Fort George. He feared for my safety. I should have stayed." Charles says, holding up some sort of amulet. "He said there was no danger."

"He was wrong." Connor says.

Charles stares at Connor, a deadly gleam in his eyes. "I will kill you, Connor. This, I swear. Not here, though. Not today. No… First – first I'll destroy all you hold dear." Charles says.

My eyes dart to Connor's, and his to mine. My hand moves towards my belly for a split second before I stop it.

But Charles notices.

"Oh… Well, this is interesting." Charles says. "Clara... What would your parents think?"

"Leave her alone!" Connor exclaims.

A guard slams the butt of his gun across Connor's face.

"Stop it!" I yell, struggling against the arms that restrain me. Charles chuckles.

"A happy little family of Assassins, have we? I'll have to put a stop to that." Charles says. He nods to one of the guards that restrain me, and then something hard is slammed into my stomach, forcing the wind out of me.

"NO!" Connor roars, struggling against the guards that hold him as I try to breathe.

"I'll burn your homestead to the ground. Upon the flames, the heads of your precious "founding fathers" will burn. Bring them to their feet." Charles commands.

Connor and I are dragged upwards, and Charles steps closer to us.

"You will wait. You will watch. And then… when you've seen all your life's work brought to ruin… Only then will I allow you to die." Charles says quietly. "Take them away."

Connor and I are dragged away from each other. Connor struggles against his guards, but they prove too strong for him. I struggle fiercely as well, and Connor and I are dragged out of sight. My heart drums in fear and I beg to God that the child is alive. I struggle with all my might against the men holding me but then one slams the hilt of his gun into the back of my head and everything goes black.

**~!~**

_I wake up in the same grassy plane as before. Juno stands in front of me, looking out towards the horizon. I stand up, and Juno turns around._

"_Why am I back here?" I ask her._

"_The child… gone." Juno says, her voice echoing and dreamy._

_It's odd. I'd never even met the child, and I'd only known it was alive for a day. But I feel as though I've been punched in the gut. I'm mainly shocked. Partly relieved. And partly sad. I wonder what might have been if the child had lived. _

"_What now?" I ask Juno._

_She turns and looks at me. To my right appears a model of Connor, moving and life-sized. He is held against an invisible wall as the three guards that took him away beat him up._

"_Follow what I say exactly and you will find him." Juno says._

**~!~**

I wake up in an alleyway, where two of the guards hold me against the wall and the third brings his fist across my face. So I do what anyone would do. I kick the guard between his legs, as hard as I can. He falls to the ground, groaning, and I pull out my sword. A guard swings his sword at me, but I block it and twirl our swords around, wrenching the guard's from his grip. He tries to run away but I mercilessly throw the sword, and it impales him in the back.

I turn to the other two guards. They both have a menacing look on my face, and one smiles evilly. They think I'm unarmed.

They both attack at the same time and just as they reach me I twirl around like a ballerina, flicking out my hidden blades and stabbing them both in the neck, their blood spraying slightly onto my uniform. I turn around, and set off looking for Connor.

**~!~**

A guard slammed his fist into Connor's stomach, making the Native cough. Connor suddenly shoved both guards holding him to the side, and then a fight broke out. Connor used his brute strength to overpower them and beat them to a pulp.

"Connor!" A woman called. Clara appeared from around a corner and the two Assassins ran towards each other.

"What happened to you?" They both began to ask each other.

"What of the child?" Connor asked urgently.

"Later. For now, focus on Lee." Clara said.

Connor ran up to a guard who was groaning on the ground.

"Where has Charles Lee gone?" He asked, grabbing the guard by his shirt.

"The harbor… to catch a ferry…" The guard replied.

Connor slammed the guard's head into the wall behind him.

"We must go." Clara said.

But Connor had to know. He grabbed Clara's arm and held her in place. "What of the child?" He repeated.

Clara took a deep breath. "Gone." She said softly.

Connor felt like the guard had slammed his fist into Connor's stomach again. There was this… thing, that Connor had never met, and now that it was gone, Connor missed it in a way. He also felt relief; for he and Clara couldn't provide a good life for the child.

Connor pulled Clara in for a hug, and they parted after a short while.

"We must find Lee." Connor said. "Konnorónhkwa." He added, their hands brushing as they ran towards the harbor, their thoughts focused completely on getting Charles Lee. The ground seemed to fly out from under their feet as they propelled themselves forwards.

They arrived at the harbor.

**~!~**

Connor and I arrive at the harbor. I look over at him, and his face is completely calm. Like the eerily peaceful weather right before a storm. And we will bring a hurricane down on Charles Lee.

I see the ferry out in the distance, floating away on the water.

Charles Lee thinks he's safe, but he's never been further from it. Two angry Assassins, out looking for revenge?

If I were him, I'd be afraid.

Very afraid.

**Hey guys!  
How did you like that chapter? Let me know and I'll publish the next chapter after (you guessed it) 5 reviews!  
A lot of you were saying "Oh, Clara's pregnant!" And stuff like that, and when I first wrote this chapter she was, and then I re-wrote it and she wasn't, but I've written it a third time and I've settled on her being pregnant. The reason I got rid of the baby was because Connor and Clara are so young, and they're not even married and they're Assassins, so it wouldn't have worked out very well. It just seems better this way. If they have kids in the future, they will be a lot older, among other things!  
Anyway, leave a review and I'll see you after 5 of them! (but feel free to leave more!)**


	31. Chapter 31

CHAPTER 30

Connor and I dive into the cold, ocean water. It takes us at least ten minutes to catch up to the colossal ship. We grab what handholds we can find, and then Connor and I make our way up the side of the ship. We're extremely careful not to be spotted. Connor and I climb past a window, but then Connor stops.

"What are you doing?" I exclaim quietly.

Connor holds up a finger and appears to be listening to something. I press my ear to the wall trying to hear something, anything, but I can only make out muffled sounds. Connor has hearing like a hawk's.

Suddenly Connor begins to climb again, and I follow him across the ship, undetected. We stop outside the Captain's cabin, and Connor listens to people talk again. I keep a lookout for guards. I hear the voices stop talking again, and Connor turns to me.

"What happened?" I whisper.

"We must go to Boston." Connor replies quietly.

**~!~**

Connor and I arrive at the Boston Harbor. Apparrently, Charles should be in the Green Dragon tavern, so that's where Connor and I are headed. My heart drums with adrenaline, as the mission I've been on for more than a year is peaking. After running through Boston, Connor and I arrive outside the tavern.

"Are you ready?" Connor asks, his hand on the door handle.

"Yes. Are you?" I ask.

Connor takes his hand off the handle and approaches me. We give each other a tender kiss before separating.

"I love you." I say.

"I love you." Connor returns. We look at each other for a second before Connor opens the door.

As we enter the tavern, a woman approaches us.

"Need somethin', darlin's?" She asks.

"No." Connor says rudely. I would smile if I weren't so tense.

Connor looks around the room and sees a man, sitting by himself drinking a mug of beer. He was on the ferry, I remember him. He must know where Charles is. Connor takes a seat opposite him, and I pull up a chair. I sit down next to the man.

"C-Can I help you?" He asks.

"You know you can." I reply intimidatingly.

"Pardon?" The man asks. Connor grabs his wrist and holds it in a painful position.

"I do not like having my time wasted." I say softly.

"S-Stop that. D-Don't make me call the guards." The man says, grunting in pain.

"Make a sound and you die." Connor hisses.

"What do you want?" The man asks, afraid.

Connor and I both stay silent. The man knows what we want.

"He's in the harbor. At the long pier, most likely. We heard what happened at the parade. Charles got all nervous – said he was leaving the country. I thought he was overreacting – guess not." The man says, grunting in pain.

Connor drops his hand, and the man lets out a sound of relief.

"Thank you." I say sweetly to the man.

Connor and I exit the tavern quickly, rushing to the pier. As we run through Boston again, I hear a shout.

"There they are!"

"Get them!"

I spin around to see a platoon of guards running towards us. Lee must have tipped them off somehow.

"Connor, go!" I exclaim. "Get Lee!"

Connor hesitates, but he knows I can take care of these guards. He keeps running to the pier, and I flick out my hidden blades, holding my wrists out to my sides. I run towards the guards and as I reach them, I leap onto the first two and land with my wrists at their throats, making deep cuts that go right through their necks. Time seems to slow down as I make my way through the guards, leaping and twirling like a ballerina in a deadly, graceful dance. Gradually, the number of guards is cut down, and there is only one left. He's more armored than the others, and I can tell he's going to be harder to kill.

The guards starts running towards me, completely ignoring his fellow comrades that lie dead at his feet. He swings his axe at me, and as I roll out of the way I notice he's very slow. I let him swing a few more times, and as he swings his axe again I roll slightly closer to him, and as I stand up I plunge both of my blades into his torso. The man looks down, and sees the knives embedded deep in his chest. He falls to the ground and I look around fiercely, waiting for the next attack.

It doesn't come.

Instead, I am greeted by the terrified stares of innocent onlookers. As I stand there panting, blades drawn and covered in blood, it strikes me that I must look like a madwoman.

**~!~**

Connor arrived at the docks, searching for Lee. His heart drummed not from the run he had just made, but at the anticipation of finally getting his revenge. Connor had trained for the last five years of his life for this moment, and no one would, could, take it from him.

Connor spotted Lee, standing and talking with another man. Lee looked over the man's shoulder and saw the Assassin standing there. He bolted.

Connor chased after him, and they ran through the harbor. Charles leaped onto a boat and onto the other side of the harbor. Connor followed him and arrived at a burning shipyard. Without hesitation, he sprinted inside and saw Lee hesitate before a section of burning wood. As he heard Connor approach, he dived under the flames and through to the other side. Connor followed him fearlessly.

They continued the chase, leaping over burning planks of wood and through flames, until they reached the outside of the ship. From there Charles led Connor all over the scaffolding of the burning ship, and as they reached the top Connor could hear the wood creaking from the stress and heat of the flames. Connor was almost upon Charles when he heard a loud crack and they both fell through the wood, landing hard on the next level of the ship's interior.

And Connor felt an excruciating pain in his lower torso. He looked down to see a plank of wood imbedded in his stomach area.

**~!~**

I arrive at the harbor, searching for any signs of Lee or Connor. In the distance I can see a great deal of smoke rising from a burning shipyard, so naturally I run towards it. As I get closer, I overhear worried conversations.

"Two guys ran in there…"

"Idiots."

"Did you see the savage?"

Oh, God. They wouldn't go in there. Even Lee isn't that stupid. Connor isn't that reckless.

Before I know it, I'm running inside as well. It's probably the stupidest thing I've ever done, but I have to find Connor, and I have to get Lee. I run through the flames, dodging burning planks of wood and leaping around inside the structure, looking for the two men. As I get closer to the top, I see a collapsed section of the roof. I can see a pool of blood, and a bloody wooden stake next to it. I can see another splatter of blood near it. Both men are injured, badly, and I still have no idea where they are.

**~!~**

**EARLIER**

Connor threw the wooden plank that was on top of him, doing his best to ignore the agony resonating from his wound. Charles Lee approached him, completely unharmed, with a cocky smile on his face.

"Why do you persist? You put us down… we rise again." Lee said, standing over Connor. "You end one plot, we forge another. You try so hard, but it always ends the same."

Connor pulled the stake out of his gut. He was so close to screaming out, the pain was so great, but he held it in. He let out only grunts. As the stake left his body, Connor let it roll out of his hands and his head rested back against the wood, panting. He was weak, so weak, as the blood left his body and the pain continued to assault him.

"Those who know you think you mad and this is why… Even those men you sought to save have turned their backs on you." Charles said.

Connor moved his hand slowly towards the gun on his belt, without Charles realizing. Connor could hardly think through his muddled thoughts, but his mind was clear enough that he could plan to catch Lee by surprise.

"And yet you fight. You resist. Why?" Charles asked.

Connor forced himself to speak. "Because no one else will!" He exclaimed through the pain. And with that he raised his gun and shot almost blindly at Charles.

Charles fell to the ground with a shout, clutching his gut. He forced himself to stand and staggered away. Connor's eyes closed for a few minutes, and then he stood as well, wheezing and finding it almost impossible to breathe, let alone walk or even stand. He forced himself out of the burning ship, one hand pressed against his wound, his thoughts focused on only one thing; Charles Lee.

He exited the shipyard, falling several times but persisting. He eventually found his way to the harbormaster and did his best to cover his wound.

"Rough night, was it?" The harbormaster laughed.

Connor did his best to stand up straight, and raised his chin.

"He headed inland. Took a ferry up the Charles River." The harbormaster said.

Connor forced the words out of his mouth. "I will need passage as well."

"Of course. Only say the word." The harbormaster replied, nodding.

**~!~**

I follow the blood, the drips of sinful red that taint the ground, out of the shipyard and to the harbormaster's stand. I approach him.

"Have you seen-" I begin.

"They both took a ship up the Charles. I presume you'd like passage as well?" He asks.

I nod.

**~!~**

Connor made his way to the small inn stationed near the Charles River. Every step he took sent waves of agony through his body, although he didn't let it show. He knew this was the last leg of his journey, and quite possibly his life. But all Connor cared about was getting to Lee. If he couldn't do it, then Clara would, but he needed to see the man's face. Connor entered the inn and drew his dagger.

He saw Charles sitting at a table with a bottle of whisky in front of him. As Lee looked up, he saw Connor approach him and didn't really react. Connor approached the table and dragged a chair next to Charles, sitting down with relief, his dagger laid on the table. Lee picked up the bottle of alcohol and downed a mouthful, then handed it to Connor. The Native took a mouthful as well, placing the half-empty bottle on the table. He looked down at his wound, and winced as a sudden spike of pain shot through his body. He looked up at Charles, and saw the amulet around his neck. Connor picked up the dagger from the table, and leaned forwards towards Lee. With the last of his strength, Connor drove the dagger deep into Lee's heart, and the man fell towards the table with a grunt. Connor grasped the amulet around Lee's neck and tore it off. He pushed himself up off the table and made his way out of the inn. As he stumbled outside, he heard someone shouting; a woman. Her voice was oddly familiar, but Connor was tired… so tired. He fell to the ground. The last thing he heard was a woman saying his name.

"Ratohnhnaké:ton, I'm here," She said.

**~!~**

I hurry towards the inn. I see the door open, and out stumbles Connor. I start shouting his name, but he doesn't seem to recognize me. He falls to the ground, and I sprint towards him.

"Ratohnhnaké:ton, I'm here," I say, kneeling beside him, putting my hands on his wound and trying to stop the blood. "I'm here, it's okay."

I frantically cut off a few strips of fabric from my own uniform, tying them around his body. I desperately work over him as his chest rises and falls, slow and shallow. My heart beats in my throat, my stomach feels like it's somewhere around my feet, and Ratohnhnaké:ton fights to survive.

**It's going to take 5 more reviews for the next chapter! Thank you so much to all the people who favourite, follow, and review my story! It really inspires me to keep writing!**


	32. Chapter 32

CHAPTER 31

I arrive at the homestead with Connor. I can see Terry chopping wood next to the house.

"Terry!" I shout. He looks up, sees Connor and I, and rushes over. He puts one of Connor's arms around his shoulder. "I'm going to get the doctor. Take care of him!" I exclaim. Terry nods, and I set off towards the doctor's house at a sprint. After a few minutes of running, I see the quaint white cottage along the road of our little community. I reach the door, puffing and panting, and I knock urgently. Dr White opens the door. Before he can say anything, words fly out of my mouth at random.

"Connor... help… please!" I exclaim, flustered.

"Hold on, Clara. Collect your thoughts." Dr White says.

"No, there's no time!" I exclaim, my sentences making more sense. "Connor's been injured, he needs help! Now!"

Dr White returns inside, grabs a bag and hurries out of his house. We both mount his horse, rushing back to the homestead. We enter the house, where Terry has laid Connor on the kitchen table. Dr White rushes forwards with his medical bag, and shoos Terry and I out of the kitchen, leaning over Connor and opening his bag.

"Thank you." I say to Terry, my thoughts completely back inside the kitchen.

"Tha' man saved my life, ma'am. It's the least I could do." Terry replies in his thick accent.

I sit down on the couch, tense and scared. What if Connor dies?

Terry leaves the house, and I barely notice. This is how Connor must have felt when I was shot. I can almost see the doctor working over Connor, trying to save his life, and my chest feels tight. My heart is quicker than usual, I can feel it beating faster.

I spend what must be hours in the same position, tense and wondering if Connor will be alive tomorrow.

**~!~**

I enter Connor's room, hot from my hunting trip. I lean my bow and arrows against the wall, and Connor's eyes stay closed. His chest is bare, except for the thick bandages that wrap around his torso. The Native's skin is paler than usual, but aside from that he sleeps peacefully. He's been sleeping for two days, and during that time there's always been someone to watch over him. Dr White has been sleeping here, just in case he's needed again, but he says the worst has passed.

I hear Connor mutter something.

I rush over to his bed and take the chair next to it, leaning in close. Connor mutters again.

"Lee… Ista…" He mutters. "Clara…"

My heart quickens slightly as he says my name. Connor's eyes flutter, and I hold my breath. Connor's eyes slowly open, and I gently touch his hand.

"Clara…" He mutters quietly.

"I'm here." I reply, smiling. "How do you feel?"

"…Charles Lee?" Connor asks, tenderly pressing a hand to his wound.

"Dead. And you almost went with him." I say.

Connor sighs. "It was worth it." He says.

I lean forwards and give Connor a kiss. "I'm glad you're alright." I say.

"Konnorónhkwa." Connor says.

I move onto the bed and lie next to Connor, trying not to move him much.

"The amulet?" Connor asks.

I look back at Connor's dresser. On top of it lies his uniform, repaired and neatly folded. On top of that lies the amulet.

"Safe." I reply, gesturing towards the dresser.

"Are you alright?" Connor asks.

I roll my eyes. Of course, of all the things that have happened, Connor worries about me. "I'm fine. A few bruises and cuts." I reply.

I roll over and kiss Connor. He kisses back tiredly, and I drape a hand across his chest, not touching his wound. We lie there simply enjoying each other's company, relief seeping throughout my body.

**~!~**

A month passes. Connor improves every day, and we enjoy the free time we now have.

I wake up next to Connor, feeling his bare chest against my skin. My fingers run over the bandages on his chest. Connor snores softly beside me. As I roll over, his arm finds its way around my waist and pulls me closer to him.

"Good morning." I say softly, looking into the Native's deep brown eyes.

"Morning." He greets, kissing me.

"How do you feel?" I ask.

This has become our sort of morning ritual. Ever since I got Connor home after he killed Lee, I've asked him every morning how he feels. He always replies the same way;

"Better." He says simply.

I laugh and kiss his neck. We lie in bed for a while more, before we both stand and get dressed. Neither of us dons our uniforms; we simply clothe ourselves in a shirt and pants each. Connor stretches and grunts in pain as his wound is aggravated. It's almost healed, but the doctor said to wait until the wound has completely healed up before removing the bandages for good.

Connor and I decide to take a peaceful walk outside. The birds sing songs in the trees and the forest seems almost alive with all the birdsong and animals that run within it.

"Clara…" Connor starts to say. He hesitates.

"Yes? Spit it out, Connor." I say when he doesn't say anything else.

"…I don't know how your men do this. I'm not sure what I'm meant to do. But I know I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I love you." He says.

My jaw drops, and my hands fly to my mouth. "Are you… are you asking me to marry you?" I ask quietly.

Connor nods, and I think he's slightly embarrassed.

I put one hand on either side of Connor's face, and I pull him in. I kiss him passionately, full on the lips, and he wraps his arms around my waist. I break away from him for a moment, looking into his eyes.

"Yes, Connor. I will marry you." I say softly, my eyes shining with happiness.

We sink to the grass, and I'm thankful no one lives with us on the homestead.

"I love you… so much…" I murmur breathlessly in between kisses. Our breathing grows more ragged. Somehow, Connor's shirt ends up on the grass. My shirt joins it. And so it continues.

~!~

I walk out of the house slowly, a content smile on my face. I approach Achilles' grave, and sit down beside it, staring out into the bay.

"Hello again, old man." I say, addressing the wind and the trees. "Charles Lee is dead. Connor killed him. I don't know what we're going to do now. Maybe try to recruit some more Assassins into our order. I know you'd like that. I suppose there's still my mother to be dealt with." I say. "And Connor and I are to be married. He asked me yesterday. I wish you could be alive to see us. We're going to be married in an Assassin ceremony – I refuse to be married in a puffy white dress."

I can just imagine Achilles groan and say what trouble we'll bring. But I know he'd be happy for us. Connor was like a son to him, and I'm grateful to Achilles for that.

"I guess we'll meet again someday, old man. I hope you're happy, wherever you are… and thank you. I can't imagine what my life might be like if it weren't for you and Connor."

With that I head back to the house. Connor waits for me at the door, and I walk into his arms.

I feel his bandages as I wrap my arms around Connor's chest, and I look up at him.

"Achilles would be proud." I say to him, resting my head against his chest.

"Is it worth it? Killing?" Connor asks.

"Yes. Because if no one had killed those men, many more would have died because of it. Don't feel guilty, Ratohnhnaké:ton. In killing those men, you have saved many lives.

Connor kisses the top of my head, and I sigh happily. We will bring the Assassins back to strength. We will spend the rest of our lives together, and we will make the old man on the hill proud.

**Sooooo FLUFFY!  
There's another chapter after this, but after next chapter it's the end of Rain. I really hope you guys have enjoyed this story, but there's still one more chapter left to go!  
As you might have noticed, Rain now has 93 reviews, which is completely insane! Because I'm a review whore, You won't get the last chapter of Rain until I hit 100 reviews. Feed my inner review slut!  
****Anyway, I'll see you guys in the next and final chapter of Rain!**


	33. Chapter 33

CHAPTER 32

Connor and I stand on the bluff overlooking the bay. Benjamin Tallmadge stands in front of us, and Connor and I wear our Assassin uniforms. My hair flies wild and free around my face. Connor's hood is down, as is mine, and our hidden blades lie on a table next to Benjamin.

"Connor Kenway, Assassin and Brother, do you take Clara Butterfield to be your wife?" Benjamin asks in a formal voice.

"Yes." Connor replies, looking at me.

"To protect her, to love her, to stay with her through good and bad?"

"Yes."

"To defend her with your life, as the true Assassin you are?"

"Yes."

"And do you, Clara Butterfield, Assassin and Sister, take Connor Kenway to be your husband?"

"Yes." I reply.

"To protect him, to love him, to stay with him through good and bad?"

"Yes."

"To defend him with your life, as the true Assassin you are?"

"Yes." I say.

"Then you may now leap together." Benjamin says.

Connor lifts my hood up over my head, and I lift his up. Benjamin hands me Connor's blades, and Connor mine, and we fit each other's blades onto the other's wrists. The blades are now engraved with the word _Forever_ down the center.

When our blades are secure, and our hoods up, Connor and I join hands. We walk towards the edge of the cliff, and I look down towards the water below. Our hands can't part until we come up from the water. Connor is just about to step forwards, off the cliff, but I stop him. I plant a tender kiss on his lips, and then we nod slightly to each other.

And with that we step off the cliff.

My stomach drops, and I squeeze Connor's hand tightly. The water rushes up to meet us, and we hit it with a surprising amount of force. We sink deep below the surface, and as our heads break the water's surface we part hands. We swim over to each other and share a long, if wet, kiss, before swimming to the sand and sitting down on it. I look up at the cliff again, where Benjamin waves at us from above. I laugh, and wave back. I look over at Connor, who stares deep into my eyes. We lean forwards, and our lips meet as husband and wife. An overjoyed laugh escapes my lips.

I never wanted to be married. All the men I knew were pigs who were interested in my breasts and little else. Even when I met Connor it didn't really strike me.

But now that we're together, I can't imagine what life would be like without him. Luck has played a large part in our lives, and I count myself as an incredibly lucky person to have had the chance to make a change. As I lie there on the sand, with Connor next to me, I make a promise. I will never stop, not even when I am old like Achilles. I will never stop fighting.

Connor pulls me on top of him, and as the sun sets we continue in our small slice of heaven. It may seem like a living hell to some; Connor and I could die at the drop of a hat. But to me, and Connor as well, it's what makes life worth living – the knowledge pushes us to live. And we are _very _much alive.

**I love this chapter so much, if I do say so much myself!  
I am so grateful to all of you for sticking with Rain, Connor and Clara. To everyone who has read, followed, favorited or reviewed, thank you so much! Without you, I wouldn't have the inspiration to keep writing. You guys have given me so much confidence in my writing, so thank you for that. I am going to keep writing, and next up is a sequel to Rain! If I get lots of reviews for this chapter, I'll post a little preview of the sequel! It'll be posted as another chapter of Rain, because I want to do a little trial run of the sequel before I post it. I hope all you guys like it!**

**Anyway, thank you guys so much for sticking with me through Rain and this ridiculously long Author's note. I love you so much, and I'll see you guys in whatever I write next!  
Love from Jenna Kobis!**


	34. Chapter 34

**Hey guys!  
This is the preview for the sequel to Rain. The bottom Author's note is going to be a summary for the sequel, so if you don't want to know or whatever then don't read it! Anyway, this is cut-and-pasted from a few different chapters so... I don't know. Just be aware. :)  
So, I hope you enjoy this preview, and let me know what you think of it in the reviews! When I get 10 reviews saying you want this sequel, I'll post the first chapter! **

I suddenly hear a knock at the door. I try to get up, but Connor keeps his hold on me.

"I have to get the door!" I say.

"Leave it. How important could it be?" Connor asks.

"Your father could be back from the dead." I reply, smiling.

Connor laughs and lets me go. I try and smooth out my hair. I open the door to see a messenger standing there.

"Can I help you?" I ask politely.

"I have a message from Stephane Chapheau to Connor and Clara Kenway." The messenger says.

"I'm Clara." I say.

"Mr Chapheau wants you to go to his house in Boston as soon as possible." The messenger says.

I raise my eyebrows. "Thank you." I say to the messenger. I flip him a coin and close the door, turning around thoughtfully.

"What is it?" Connor asks as he enters the hallway.

"Stephane wants us in Boston as soon as possible." I reply, thinking hard. What could be so important?

Connor raises his eyebrows. "We leave tomorrow morning." He says.

I nod, and head down into the basement. I'm not really sure what I'm looking for, and I'm certain I won't find anything. I just wander around and look around. Connor follows me down after a while.

"What are you looking for?" Connor asks.

"I don't know." I say.

Connor approaches me, and I recognise that look on his face.

"You only think about one thing, don't you?" I ask, giggling as Connor pulls me in again.

"I do not." Connor says indignantly.

**~C~**

Connor and I leave our horses outside Boston and walk along the street. It seems more empty than when I was last here, but I'm sure it's just my imagination. We soon reach Stephane's house, and seconds after I knock Stephane opens the door, looking fearful. He pulls us inside quickly.

"Stephane, what is it?" Connor asks.

"We need your help." Stephane says.

"Who?" I ask.

"The Patriots." Stephane replies.

"Why? I thought we'd almost won." I say.

"We had. But the Crown has sent more soldiers. Thousands more. They're sending more troops, more weapons, more supplies. It's not looking good." Stephane says.

My heart goes cold with dread. If the Crown wins the war, I can barely imagine what could happen to America. I dread to think.

"What do you need?" I ask.

"A miracle, mademoiselle." Stephane replies. "Part of the reason I called you here is that you need to get out of here. The Crown will win, I'm sure of it. We cannot fight their armies anymore. With the Crown in control, and the Templars behind them, we will be hunted down."

"We can still fight-" Connor says strongly. He is cut off by Stephane.

"The time for words is over. The Patriots will lose this war, and unless you can summon the Gods to help us, we will die." Stephane says gravely.

Stephane hates the Crown more than most. He is a loyal patriot, and I know he wouldn't say these things unless he was certain they are going to come true.

"Well, what can we do? I refuse to go hide in a hole for the rest of my life." I say.

"Unfortunately, I fear it is exactly that which we must do." Stephane replies.

**~C~**

**4 MONTHS LATER**

_Connor and I sit in front of the fire, happy and warm. I hear a knock on the door, so I stand up and open it._

_Standing there are 5 guards. _

"_Connor!" I shout._

_He comes running to the door. The leader of the guards begins to speak._

"_By order of the British Crown, this house is now the property of the Crown. Either come peacefully or we will be forced to use violence." The guard says loudly._

_Connor and I look at each other. We both walk forwards slowly, and as we reach the guards we simultaneously flick out our hidden blades. A fight begins._

_I take out one guard before something hard is slammed into my head. I fall to the ground, vision fuzzy, and see the same thing happen to Connor. We are taken out of the house, and then my vision fades._

I wake up with a start, cold and tired despite having just woken up. I look over at Connor, who sleeps on, also looking cold. I sit up and look around the room.

A lot has changed in the past two months.

**So, what did you think of that? As I said, if I get 10 (or more!) reviews saying you want the sequel, that's when I'll post the next chapter! Now, here's a fairly detailed summary of the sequel to give you more detail. No spoilers, (I think) so if you don't want to know or anything then just don't read it!  
Also, another thing that might be confusing unless I clear it up.  
I introduce another character, and for that character I write in 1****st**** person, present tense writing, like Clara. I thought it would be confusing switching back and forth between point of views, and when I wrote Rain the perspective change thingy was this symbol: ~!~  
Now it will be ~C~ For Clara, and if the new character's name is Bob the symbol would be ~B~. So the first letter of the name will be in between the two squiggly things. Does that make sense?  
Anyway, here's the summary:**

It's set a few months after Connor and Clara get married. As you know, Stephane thinks the Crown will win the American Revolution and (SPOILER) They do. Everyone in America is rounded up and put into the big cities (New York, Boston, ect) and Connor and Clara are captured as well. It's up to them and a few old friends of theirs to resist. That is all I will say!

**Also, I need a title for it. Preferably something a little more creative than Rain, because as you may have noticed it doesn't even rain in Rain. So, in the reviews any title suggestions would be great and when I pick a title I'll give the person who suggested it a shoutout! If I can't decide, I'll probably ask you guys to vote! Anyway, thanks for reading this and sticking with oh-so-creative Rain! –Jenna**


	35. Chapter 35

Hey guys, I just wanted you to know that the sequel to Rain is now published!

It's called Tides of a Revolution (thanks to Shadow Katakura, I now actually have a decent title), so watch out for it! Please follow, favorite and review it! Anyway, I just wanted you guys to know! And also thanks to all the people who suggested a title for the sequel. :)

Love from Jenna!


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